


Twice the Tribulation

by PhoenyxVyxen



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Anthology, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Mood Swings, Multi, Romance, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 23:20:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 44,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenyxVyxen/pseuds/PhoenyxVyxen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthology.  Desmond Miles enjoys living his lonesome life without any problems to fret over except his own: his ancestors, Altair Ibn-La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore, as roommates. How well will the Assassins adjust to one another and the modern era?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed series © Ubisoft. I do not make any sort of money/profit from writing this fiction either.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How it all began starring people's favorite modern Assassin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Assassin's Creed series © Ubisoft. I do not make any sort of money/profit from writing this fiction either.

The sun shone brightly over the oh so busy city with no clouds in sight as the air blew with ease. The crowded streets were abuzz with people strolling up and down the sidewalk, doing what they occasionally do and going to where they needed to. The sounds of vehicles zooming by along with the loud honks and tires skidding across the pavement filled the atmosphere. Same ol, busy New York City.

A formally dressed woman sat in a rolling chair an oak desk in the office part of an apartment building, typing at a fast pace on a keyboard to a desktop. She wore a dark blue suit outfit with black high heels. Her long, brown hair was tied in a high ponytail and bangs on the sides with a ring on her right ring finger and small hoop earrings as her only accessories. Other than said laptop, there were also a cup occupied with blue, black, and red ink pens and sharpened pencils along with an assortment of paperwork vacantly sitting on the side of her.

A knock sounded at the door before a tall, young guy walked in.

Said woman looked up and smiled warmly. "Ah, morning, Mr. Miles," she politely greeted.

"Morning to you, too, Ms. Syndi," Miles greeted back, smiling. "Sorry I'm late. Got caught in traffic," he explained, chuckling nervously.

The woman shook her head. "It's no problem. Please, have a seat." She waited until he sat down, folding both arms in front of her before continuing. "What can I help you with?"

Desmond, dressed in his casual attire of a white hoodie with dark jeans and sneakers of sorts, heaved a sigh. "Well…it's sort of a long story," he began slowly, cautiously choosing his words while simultaneously darting his eyes back and forth from her midnight blue and dark purple orbs to the little amount of cleavage from the top of the blouse.

"Go on…" Syndi urged patiently.

The brown-eyed sunk back a little in his seat, trying to make himself comfortable. "I have two 'brothers' who are currently moving down here to America, but they don't have a place to stay, you see." He paused for a moment, scratching his head as the woman listened contently. "So, I offered them to stay at my place, um, apartment. And I wanted to see they can be approved of being settling in."

Nodding her head in understanding, she asked, "Can you tell me more about your brothers?"

"They come from overseas but from different homelands."

"Uh huh."

"One's from Masyaf, Syria while the other's from Florence, Italy."

"Interesting," Syndi said in amusement, leaning back. "So, you're not brothers by birth." It was more of a question than a statement.

"Um…" Desmond gazed up at the ceiling, trying to put into good words for her. "Not really," he started slowly, gesturing with his hand. "They _are_ blood brothers, but…in another way, even though they are family to me, of course."

Syndi blinked, face expressionless. "I see."

"Yeah…" he trailed with uneasiness, sighing again. "It's hard to explain."

The silver-haired shook her head whilst crossing her arms. "It's okay. I think I get what you're saying."

Desmond relaxed his shoulders at hearing this.

"You do know that the apartments only have _two_ rooms and not _three_?" she mentioned.

"Yeah. They can share with each other…if you, you know…But it's okay if you…disagree with the idea."

Syndi said nothing, staring down with a slight scowl as she pondered silently as her foot subconsciously tapped the marble floor. Desmond could do nothing, but sit there and wait for her answer. He knew the requirements and responsibilities for having more than one person on the lease to your own apartment. Yet he mentally hoped she would let them house with him, knowing this woman was strict on certain things and took things almost seriously. _That may be so, but at least she's got nice breasts._

Her eyes shot over to his chocolate ones, making him stiffen and thinking that she might have heard his thoughts. Luckily, she did not. The blue-eyed female stood up from her chair and turned to walk over to the file cabinet across the room. His dark orbs watched her every move as she rummaged through various folders, eyes trailing over every curve of her being until they stopped on her rear. His brows rose. _Huh. Small but nice ass._

Desmond quickly straightened up his posture as she closed the drawer and walked back over to him. Withdrawing a sheet, she placed it in front of him and grabbed a pen from her cup to write with for him.

Realization etched his features. "Wait. You're gonna let them stay?"

The young woman placed a hand on her hip and sighed. "Yes for the fact that I can't stand to deny of others lending those they care about a helping hand, especially those who are considered family." A soft smile then crossed her covered lips then pointed to the bottom of the paper. "Sign their names on the lease, and you'll be done."

He smiled warmly at her. "Whew! Thank you."

"By the way, where are they?"

"Waiting outside for me," he answered, reaching to pick up the pen. "I'll go get them t-"

"No, it's fine," Syndi interrupted.

"You can hear them, can't you?" he questioned in a bland manner.

Well enough, outside of the door they can hear two different accented voices, bickering in hushed voices. They obviously were eavesdropping in on the conversation.

Desmond groaned and deadpanned. "Those two just can't mind their own business."

"Some brothers, you have," she chuckled, attention turned towards the door.

"You can say that again." He then finished signing the lease paper. "It's sad to admit that I have to sign both of their names for them."

She looked at him, confused. "Why?"

"Because one writes mostly in Italian, and the one writes sloppily, but can't even write to save his damn life," he exaggerated, shamefully shaking his head.

"Hm."

Desmond stood up from his chair, preparing to leave not before thanking said girl again for everything she had done for him. Without thinking, he embraced her small form in a tight hug, catching her off guard and looking dumbfounded. A grin appeared on his features mentally at the feel of her body. _Hey, this feels good._ After letting her go, he strolled across the room and exited to the office. Then, everything was back to being quiet again.

Fixing the dark-colored suit, she cleared her throat and called out, "Desmond."

The door opened a little enough for said American to peek his head through, "Yeah?"

In a low, cold tone with slightly narrowed orbs, Syndi snarled, "I knew why you were staring and feeling me up. Do that again, I will not hesitate to castrate more than your pathetic little balls."

Gulping, he half shouted, half whimpered in a scared tone, "S-S-Sorry!" then slammed the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings, readers! Sorry that this is not the best, but it's all I can think of for a way to start this. And to clarify, this series bares no specify plot whatsoever. It's like an anthology, a series of long and short chapters of situations with Desmond and his ancestors in the modern time featured in different genres. I hope that makes sense enough to understand because It's kinda hard to explain, really. :/
> 
> And just for future reference, if you happen to spot any errors or whatnot, do be a doll and let me know, please. If you have suggestions or ideas, drop a word or two if you like. I wish you all a great day and hope you enjoy your time reading! :)


	2. White Substance

"What…is this?"

"I…do not know."

Altair and Ezio stared at the object containing the strange substance.

"It is edible, no?"

The Arabian cringed a bit. "I would not trust it to be."

Desmond sighed. "Guys…"

"Then, why is it so…white? Last I recall, it was a creamy color." Ezio picked up a nearby spoon then cautiously dipped it into the liquid, swishing it around in circles. "And it is so watery. Why, I wonder."

The older ancestor scowled. "Stop fooling around in it. You will make a mess."

"Will I catch something from it?"

"Possibly."

"Guys."

"Hmm." Said Italian ancestor tilted his head. "It's so watery like water itself. It should be sticky almost honey."

The older ancestor raised a hidden brow. "Seriously?"

" _Si_."

"Interesting."

"Guys…!"

"Maybe I should lick it."

"Are you that dense? It could be poison."

"You don't really know unless you try."

"Guys!"

Altair exhaled. "If you end up dying, I will not help you."

"Good to know you care, _amico_." Ezio slowly leaned his head down 'til his face was a few inches from strange liquid. He sniffed it a couple times before darting his tongue out of his mouth like a dog then waited. Again, he gave a few more licks, this time taking a small amount into mouth, swirling it around before swallowing.

Waiting impatiently, the Arabian Assassin asked, "Well?"

Smacking his mouth, he sat back in the chair while his tongue ran across his scarred lips to rid of the excess droplets. "It's not poison, to tell you that much, but it has a very likable…sweet taste to it."

Blinking once, Altair averted his gaze down at it, pondering on what was said. In the same manner, he leaned down slowly to the matter before stopping an inch or two from it. Carefully studying it, he pushed his tongue out of his mouth bit by bit to where only the tip of the appendage was touching it. Yanking it back, he savored the flavor, a look of amusement washing over his tanned features.

"It…does taste sweet. I admit that I thought you were lying."

It was the Auditore's turn to raise a brow. "What, you thought it would be sour?"

"Something of the sort."

A sudden crash came as a hand slammed down on the table, causing the duo Assassins to sit up straight. They were met with their descendant giving both of them an annoyed, agitated expression as his eyes were closed.

"Guys…" he gradually mumbled. "It's…milk for fuck's sake." His hand reached over to grab a box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal and put it next their bowls. "Now eat the damn cereal."

Desmond then walked away without a word, leaving the two simultaneously staring after him dumbfoundedly.


	3. Tread Lightly

Desmond tiredly trudged, more likely stomped, his feet up the steps of the building. He had went for a walk this evening to occupy himself since the bar would not be open until late in the afternoon. To make matters worse, a rumble sounded from his stomach, a clear indication of hunger. _Man, I could go for a nice steak or a burger right now 'cause I am starving!_

Reaching the last step, his feet dragged across the ground as he made his way to his rightful apartment, Unit 6. Said hazel-eyed withdrew the keys from his pants pocket and was about to place it in when a voice was heard.

"Altair, how much longer do I have?" Ezio's thick voice echoed from inside.

"Tired already?" Altair's deep voice questioned.

"No…"

"Then, keep going."

Miles tensed immediately. _Wait. Are they…_

"Maybe we should have waited until Dez-mund gets back."

_It's Desmond._

"Quit your bickering, you fool, and go faster."

He was in a little shock as to what might be going on between the two. Oh, the images!

"Perhaps, if you and I had switched places, you would have done better?" the Italian questioned, panting a bit.

"Quicker than you think, now, go harder."

"I am going harder and faster."

"Not to me, you are. I said go _harder_ , you imbecile!"

Ezio let out a grunt. "I'm trying!"

Desmond's mouth fell open at the sound of his ancestors outside of his door, eye twitching slightly as so many questions swarmed around in his head.

A scoff was heard. "You call this trying? Move your ass into it," Ibn-La'Ahad growled lowly.

A loud slap was heard.

"Alright! _Dio_!" the Auditore yelped.

"Much better."

Heavy breathing and panting soon followed afterwards.

"Altair…I'm almost there."

"Good. Don't stop."

"Altair…I don't know how much longer…"

"You better not butt out now."

"Oh, _merda_. It feels like I'm going to do it!"

"Excellent. Keep going, Ezio," Altair groaned lowly.

"I'm getting closer!"

"Yes! Faster!"

" _Cazzo_!"

"Harder!"

"Yes!"

Turning the doorknob, Desmond burst through the door, mouth open to say something, but stopped at the sight before him. Both ancestors turned their hooded gazes over their shoulders at them as they stood in front of the television in the living room. The Italian Assassin was holding a white remote in his right hand belonging to a Wii while obviously playing Wii Sports with the Syrian standing next to him with his arms crossed over his chest.

" _Buona sera_ , Dez-mund," Ezio greeted with a nod. "Had a good walk?"

Miles blinked, making sure his eyes were not deceiving him. Unfortunately, it seemed they have for he exhaled a heavy breath, apparently too tired to even care. He did not say anything as he turned in the other direction, closing the door behind him before locking up to go out for not another walk, but to work early at the bar in desperate need of a drink or two.

_I suddenly don't feel hungry anymore…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To ensure there's no confusion, the translations for the foreign language(s) will be in the notes at the end of chapters if there is any. Also, the titles of some, if not most, chapters may not make sense or doesn't fit because I have no idea what to name it sometimes. Ask me questions if concerned!
> 
> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Buona sera [Good evening.]  
> Cazzo [fuck (via cursing)]  
> Dio! [God!]  
> Merda [shit (via cursing)]


	4. Demon on Wheels

"That…is unlike anything I have ever seen."

"I second that."

Desmond groaned exasperatedly, arms crossed over his chest as he face palmed. This morning, he had to rush this morning for work since he had overslept, only to have his ancestors scaring him almost to death when they were standing over top of him. They must have been watching him in his sleep, knowing how quiet and observant they were, which might have been the worst wakeup call for him. After that, Altair and Ezio mostly have been following him around the house with so many questions that it nearly drove him crazy. So, since the Assassins would not leave him alone for one second, not even without having Ezio trying to peek in on him dressing, he decided to take them along with him to work. However, the problem was that the two did not want to get inside of the Mustang GT Convertible. _And this is why I regret to bother with them in the first place._

"Guys," Desmond spoke, checking the time on his cellphone. "Time is running, so we need to go, now."

"Is it safe?" his Italian ancestor questioned, averting his gaze at him.

He sighed. "Yes."

"Why not take horses for transportation?" the Arabian ancestor then asked, also turning his gaze to look at him.

A slight frown creased his dark brows. "It's against the law to."

"Why?"

Sighing again, Desmond replied a bit agitatedly, "It just _is_. Now, get in the car already."

Pushing past both of them, he made his way around to the driver's side then unlocked the doors with keys. Both Altair and Ezio watched contently as he slipped inside the vehicle before shutting the door. They did nothing except stood in their same exact spots in the parking lot as their descendant sat his stuff in the backseat. Putting the key into the ignition, Desmond twisted it forward to start up the car. Immediately, the Mustang made a loud sound before it purred to life. At this, the two Assassins became frightened, jumping in alert as Altair switched into a defensive stance while Ezio hide behind him, whimpering like an idiot.

Seeing this, the window rolled down, revealing a bored looking Desmond. "You two are that scared of a car?"

Peeking around Altair's shoulder, Auditore answered, " _Si_ b-because it's c-c-cursed!"

He only blinked. "Are you kidding me, right now?" When the two did not answer, Desmond shook his head. "God, I'm surrounded by idiots," he muttered under his breath.

" _Ehi_!"

Shoving Ezio away from behind him, Ibn-La'Ahad scowled at him for yelling in his ear then turned back to his American descendant. "Make us believe that this…contraption is not really cursed."

_Looks like I have no choice._ "Alright, look, if ya'll get inside the car and ride with me to work, I won't bother you two about riding ever again. Deal?"

Taking the time to ponder for a moment or two, the Assassins gave each other a look before averting back to Desmond, nodding their approval.

_About time…_ "Alright, get in."

_**A Quarter 'til an Hour with Minimum Complications and Complaints Later…** _

Pulling up to the side, the trio finally arrived at the bar where Desmond worked at. Once switching off the engine after putting the gear in park, he gathered his things from the back then proceeded to get out of the car. Meanwhile, the passenger's door slowly creaked opened as the Assassins stumbled out onto the ground, grunting upon impact as Ezio landed, or more likely crawled, on top of Altair, who gave out a sigh of relief and pushed the Italian's heavy weight to the side off of his person.

With great relief, the brunette Auditore laid on the sidewalk and shakily gasped, "Land. Sweet…sweet land."

Shaking a bit from the ride also, the Syrian breathed out, "Never…again…"

Desmond blinked a few times then shook his head for the pity of them. Having nothing else to say or think, he turned and went inside of the building to punch in for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Ehi [hey]  
> Si [yes]


	5. Drinking Bowl

Hazel orbs underneath the white cowl gazed contently downward into the white bowl. Never had he ever seen such a thing. Creations in this modern world were way different from the ones he knew. It was made him curious of how these things worked. More importantly, his biggest curiosity was how such a round object could contain water that was coming from nowhere.

 _Intriguing._ Altair blinked, his features unchanged. Reaching upward, his hand with the missing ring finger gently took hold the obstacle at the top of the odd creation and pulled down. He watched as the water in the bowl started swirling around in circles before disappearing into the whole at the bottom, little streams flowing in soon afterwards.

The 12th Century Assassin tilted his head to the side cutely, that is if you could call it cute for someone as deadly as him. "Where does all the water go?" he questioned to mostly himself.

Getting even more interested, he pushed the handle down again, eyes still watching as the water went in circles before rushing out into the hole at the bottom of the round bowl and little streams of said water filling it back up. Altair, growing even more curious, withdrew his hand away then reached inside to cup a small amount of water. He eyed the water first then proceeded to take a sip of it, savoring the taste around in his mouth with his tongue before swallowing.

 _Tastes…fresh._ The Eagle Assassin became satisfy and started to want more. He again reached with both hands this time to gather the water and continued to drink it in bigger gulps, taking in huge amounts.

Poking his head around the door, Desmond spoke up. "Altair."

Said Assassin visibly flinched and snapped his head up at his descendant at the sound of his name, a spooked expression on his face like he had been caught red-handed with liquid dripping off of his lips.

"What are you doing?"

Blinking, he simply replied, "Drinking."

A look of disgust crossed his face. "Out of the toilet?"

"Toilet?"

"Yeah." He paused. "Something that we humans go to the _restroom_ in order to take a _dump_ or a _leak_ ," he emphasized matter-of-factly.

Slowly, Altair gazed back down into his hands for a few seconds then scrunched up his features like he was getting sick. He just could not believe he just drunk out of the toilet bowl where God knows what could have been deposited there.

"And if I were you, I'd take some medicine before you get sick," Desmond stated, turning to leave while shutting the door, knowing fully well that he might be wanting to be alone for a while and grimacing a bit at the sound of him retching in the bathroom.

"Is he…alright, Dez-mund?" Ezio asked while sitting on floor in the living room, sending a worried look at him.

"Yeah, he'll be fine," he reassured, pausing to take seat next to him on the couch. "May take a while, though."


	6. Dead Assassins

It was around late at night when everything had quieted down much to Desmond's relief. It was his favorite time when he finally got to relax, not from work, but from both of his ancestors. They were such a pain in the neck to have around and much worse than children, even though they act like it. Altair with his arrogant, I-don't-care attitude, and Ezio with his flirtatious, dense-in-the-head nature. Oh, he wished he would have never accepted to take them in to be under him. But it is understandable that since they were new to everything, he had to be watchful of them 24/7 of the day. What joy.

Right when he was about to close his eyes, a voice whined, "Altair!"

A sigh was heard. "Hmm?"

"I need your help."

"With…?"

"Come over here, and I will show you."

Desmond became a bit alerted and listened carefully to conversation.

"You better have a good reason for me to help you," Altair stated in his usual cold tone.

"I do," came Ezio's voice in a positive manner. "Get down here and help me."

"Help you what?"

"Help me get back up, of course."

The 21st Century descendant sat up on his elbows and eyed the wall curiously. _What the hell?_

"No…"

"Please?"

"No."

"You're mean," the Italian pouted.

"I do not care."

"You never do."

Silence filled the room afterwards. _What are they doing in there? Don't tell me…_

"Ha!" the Auditore laughed. "I'm up!"

"Quiet, you fool," Ibn-La'Ahad growled lowly. "Dez-mund is asleep."

A bored expression crossed Desmond's face. _I wish they get my name right._

"Since when you cared?" asked the 15th Century Eagle. "It is not like we are actually do it."

"That will never happen between us."

 _You know what? I'm tired, so I'm going to sleep._ With that thought, Desmond rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, not caring to listen whatever was going with his ancestors.

* * *

The beautiful morning was all quiet until…

"Altair~!"

Desmond's eyes shot opened as he jolted awake.

"Keep going, Ezio, and whatever the cause, do not stop."

"Oh, but I can't, not without you."

"Just keep going, dammit. I'm already done with."

"But-"

"Do it!"

"What the hell is up with those two?" muttered Desmond aloud to himself, scrunching his face in confusion.

"So close. So close!"

"Good. Keep at it."

"It's feeling good!"

"Finish it already before I kill you."

"Oh, _si, si!_ _Dio_ , at last! The coming is near!"

Throwing the sheets off of him, Desmond rolled out of bed then ran out of his room, jerking the door open in the process. He, then, burst through their door. "What the _hell_ are you two doing?"

He was met with the sound of music playing as the Assassins turned their gazes up at them. They were sitting on the floor with their legs crossed, each holding a white controller in their hand to an Xbox 360. Blinking, Desmond looked from them to the console to the television, the black screen showing the statistics of their progress after their completion of reaching the rescue vehicle, which happened to be a helicopter and a character by the name of Francis who had died in the end.

Slowly, Desmond stated, "So, you two stayed up playing Left 4 Dead when I thought you both were…" He paused, not wanting to finish that sentence. Instead, he sighed. "How long you two were up?"

"All night," Ezio answered.

A dark brow rose. "Why?"

"It was difficult," Altair replied

"So, you played it on Expert, then." It was mostly a statement than a question.

" _Si_ , and sorry to wake you, but Altair was being mean to me." Said Italian pouted a bit, making the other roll his eyes hidden by his cowl unlike him who had it off.

 _Sometimes, I wonder how they even know how to play a video game without any help whatsoever._ The Assassins' descendant's eye twitched by a slight before deeply exhaling and muttering, "I need some coffee and vacation…badly."

Both of them watched as he calmly walked out, shutting the door behind him then gave each other a look. Altair only grunted while Ezio shrugged his shoulders then proceeded to start a new game.

"So…so can I be Francis this time," the Auditore eagerly inquired.

Ibn-La'Ahad, without turning to him, smirked devilishly. "Hell. No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Dio [God]  
> Si, si! [Yes, yes!]


	7. Everlasting Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't satisfy me one bit, and I want to burn it. Seriously. Every time I look at it, I wince and wonder what exactly I was thinking. Egad...

_Specks of flame danced across the rooftops as clouds of smoke filled the partly cloudy sky. Screaming and yelling were heard along with the strong smell of blood mixed with burning heat in the air._

_Masyaf was undergoing in total chaos in both parts of the village and the fortress. The Assassins and Templar Knights fought in the raging battlefield of the Holy Land, each trying to drive each other back to gain the upper hand and take control._

" _On your guard, Assassins! See to it that the Templars never pass the fortress gate!" shouted the Grandmaster, Al Mualim, who stood within the top of the staircase near the fortress doors with his weapon drawn._

_Citizens ran in fear and fled from their home, some assisting one another to help while others were cut down by the Templars' blades near the city's gates in a futile attempt to escape. Children took refuge within the empty stalls and other places to hide, pressing tightly against each other as tears streamed down their faces while watching their home being destroyed or witnessing their close ones fleeing for their lives to safety. Bodies were scattered everywhere of all people, Assassins, and Templars alike while a few of the fortunate ones were dragged into the infirmary by others; the fallen Templars, however, either were left to lick their wounds or driven away with their tail between their legs._

_In the midst of the destruction, Altair fought relentlessly with an elite Templar Knight and three of the others who circled him, steel clashing against steel as sparks flew. Said knight made a move of raising his sword above his head then bringing it down upon the Assassin. Ibn-La'Ahad grunted when his raised weapon blocked the attack, teeth gritting at the amount of strength that was put into it and almost making him stagger. As the two tried to push their swords against the other, another Templar of a lower rank stepped forward then proceeded to swing his sword at the Assassin. Luckily, with his senses high on alert, Altair was able to kick the tall knight in the leg near the shin, making the man loosen his grip on the sword then quickly dived down the side to avoid the oncoming attack. This caused said guard's broadsword to slice across said knight's throat, his eyes widen as gurgling sounds came from his mouth while blood spurted from the wound, slowly falling to his knees before slumping to the ground._

_Distracted and in shock, Altair took the chance and effortlessly drove his blade through the lower ranked guard's gut, pulled it upwards as said man grunted in pain, then slid it out while making a dramatic turned. Seeing how deadly the Assassin was wielding the blade, both of the remaining Templar guards sheathed, cowering with fear written across their face then fled from the area. Unfortunately, the duo did not run far as a small knife pierced the back of their skull, each letting out a cry before falling dead._

_Satisfied, the Eagle Son of None was about to turn and go assist his brothers when a sudden scream caught his attention. Molten hues of amber averted over to see a familiar woman being restrained by another one of the Templars, his hand roughly yanking her by the hair as she let out another cry but of pain._

_An unexplainable emotion flickered in his eyes as his heart did a leap inside his chest as he recognized who it was. "Adha…"_

_The woman, Adha, ceased her struggling against said guard and turned her head in his direction at the husky whisper of her name. Their eyes locked upon each other, hazel meeting brown. Aside from the frown adorning her features 'cause of the attempt of trying to free herself, she still looked beautiful. But the moment of the two staring was cut short when a sword was shoved upwards from the middle of her back through her chest, instantly piercing her lung which caused her to gasp out loud and eyes widening._

" _No…" Altair whispered under his breath, seeming speechless at the sight he was beholding._

_Mouth grazing into a sadistic smirk, the Templar guard pushed the blade with his vacant hand in once more, causing Adha to grunt, spitting up blood from her mouth. He then drew his weapon out, letting her body slump to the ground. Altair paid no heed or attention to his surroundings as his heart made an agonizing clench in his chest. Anger grew within his being when his eyes left her unmoving form to said guard, smirking smugly. With the flick of his wrist, he withdrew a small knife and threw it, hitting it mark in the Templar's throat, making him shout in surprise before falling dead._

_Wasting no time, the Eagle Assassin immediately rushed over to Adha's body, kneeling down before turning her onto her back to face him. Her brown hues were glazed with fear, her mouth ajar as she panted for air. He held her up close to his body while his hand with the missing ring finger gently brushed the hair out of her face. Worry and panic stretched across his hidden face while he examined her eye. Then, he felt his heart stopped and skin paled when the light in her eyes slowly disappeared, a soft sigh escaping her bloody lips then her body finally went limp. She had died in his arms._

_Altair's eyes started to tingle, but held back from letting the tears spill. She was gone. The one he had known little of but fell in love with was gone. Her life taken by those Templar bastards. Both of his eyes closed while grinding his teeth together. His body shook ever so slightly, feeling weak for the first time for the emotions of angst, anger, and grief rose in his being. Why her? Why did it had to be Adha? Could they have just left her alone, spare her life instead of taking it as they pleased? No, because like the lot of them, they give nothing and take away everything._

_A sudden presence stood over his kneeling form. "Came to grieve over a miserable girl, Assassin?" a voice taunted from behind._

_Eyes snapping open, Altair swiftly turned around to the source. Robert de Sable, the enemy and leader of the Templar army. However, all was too late before he had time to react. Robert, blade in hand, skillfully impaled said Assassin in the chest, an agonizing cry erupting from him._

_Watching with a triumphant grin, Robert leaned down to him until his lips were next to his ear. "Give my regards to your love," he whispered lowly before standing back up to his full height._

_Once the impaled blade was jerked harshly out of him, Altair groaned then collapsed to the ground, landing beside his deceased beloved._

Alarmingly, Altair shot awake and quickly sat up, breath coming out in pants as both his eyes scanned his surroundings while his well-toned, slightly warm body was drenched with cold sweat. Quickly realizing where he was, he exhaled before bringing hands up his slightly sweaty face underneath the cowl to calm himself.

"Only a dream," he muttered underneath his breath, his deep, Arabian-accented voice low while his being was shaking visibly from said nightmare.

"You okay, _mi amico_?" an all too familiar voice questioned from his left of the bed.

He did not answer but merely closed his eyes, silently trying to calm down his heart rate. The nightmare felt so real that he could even feel where the steel blade penetrated him. He was relieved it all was only a bad dream, but why her? It had been so long since he ever seen or heard her name. Hating to admit it aloud, he missed her dearly that it pains him to think about it. No wonder he was so doubtful of falling in love with another woman again.

The bed shifted beside him then felt a hand gently grab his shoulder. "Something troubling you?" the Italian-accented voice questioned with concern.

"It is none of your concern," Altair replied coldly, jerking his shoulder away from the other's grasp.

Ezio furrowed his eyebrows. "You can't hide it and act like it is nothing. From the way you were muttering in your sleep, I can tell it is something."

Altair opened his eyes at this and looked over at his descendant. "Muttering?"

" _Si_. You kept muttering in your sleep about some woman…a name." He paused for a second. "Ad-ha, I presume."

His hands clenched into fists. "You were watching me in my sleep?" he questioned in a slow but deadly tone.

Said Assassin shook his head. "No. I woke up and heard you mumbling and groaning about whatever it was you were dreaming. I slept just as lightly as you were, but I figured you drifted off into a deep sleep."

The ancestor all but stared off at the wall, taking in the words that was said. Maybe he was tired, after all. But could have it been a sign, though? Were the leftover feelings he had for her still resided within him? He was unsure, no doubt. It could be possible.

"Altair."

At the sound of his name, he turned his covered eyes back up to the young man.

Ezio again reached his hand up to the Eagle's face and softly cupped his cheek, caressing it with a small smile. " _Mi dispiaci_ if you do not wish to discuss about the matter. If she was dear to you, then I understand and will not push you any further than you would like me to."

Ibn-La'Ahad flinched at the contact of Auditore's hand against his face. He never had anyone to touch him like so besides the time for back talking to his Master back at Masyaf that one time. Yet, for a reason he could not explain, a part of him started to actually enjoy it. All the while, he tried so hard to resist the oncoming feeling he was suddenly having. So, the Assassin looked the other way, not wanting to feel the tender stroke of the said hand and wanting to feel soft.

Seeing him react like so, Ezio leaned over closely and whispered huskily, "Allow me to assist on helping you."

A shiver ran all over Altair's spine when the Italian whispered in that deep, thick accent of his that was so irresistible. Without noticing, Ezio gently guided him down gently to lay on his back, his head resting on the pillow. When he finally came back from his quiet state, a scowl formed on his face and was about to speak when a finger was placed on his scarred lips.

"Shh," the brunette Auditore cooed, removing his finger to place it on the other side of the bed so that he was towering above the ancestor a little from his spot, his masculine body just barely touching the other's.

Leaning down, said Assassin captured the Arabian's lips in a delicate kiss, a silent gasp escaping from him as his muscles immediately stiffened. Never had he ever been kissed by anyone in all of his life, nevertheless, a man for that matter. He was unsure of whether or not to comply when felt Ezio move his lips against his in a slow but passionate way. A part of him was growing to like the softness of the brown-haired's touching his slightly dried ones from the lack of care, making him want to enjoy much more of it. So, to make the best of the time, he responded by pushing his head upward a little to meet his descendant's, hearing a low groan in happiness of the acceptance.

Slowly moving his hand, Ezio trailed his fingers down Altair's neck, tenderly gliding across his slightly darker-toned chest, stopping to trace every scar he came in contact with. This earned a few sharp gasps and a moan coming from the Arabian as the fingers probed his sensitive nipple, causing them to harden from excitement. They continued to venture downward, brushing along the delicious set of rock-like abs and ending above the waistline before once again tracing a long scar near the abdomen to the inside of the white boxers, earning a buck of the hips and a shuddering moan.

An unknown feeling then welled up inside the two of them as the moment grew suddenly intense. Altair took this opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hands reaching to grasp said Italian's face to pull closer to his, body temperature growing hotter. Ezio smiled into the kiss and chuckled inaudibly, not surprised but amused at the action and could not help letting out another groan, never stopping the actions of his occupied hand rubbing and teasing the warm girth. He was known for being such a great, no, _wonderful_ multitask-er since he did had his fair share of experience at the start of seventeen, which he was blessed and thankful for.

The ancestor Eagle was beginning to feel the need and lustful desire rise within him as he poured out every emotion he could no longer hold into the steamy make out, tongue running along the other's bottom lip for permission of entrance, which he rarely was ever known to ask for. The younger man, wanting to make matters more fun, refused to let him in and kept his mouth shut. However, this disapproved with the Syrian as a growl rumbled in his throat. He quickly lowered his hand from the brunette's cheek down to his chest then pinched a dark nipple. Ezio made a sharp yelp in his throat, leaving an opening for Altair to take by pushing his tongue into his warm mouth and began to explore as he pleased. The fleshy organ made sure to never miss a spot or crevice it could find and/or reach within its path, heavy sighs emitting from both of the men in complete satisfaction. A second later, the kiss finally broke with a loud, wet _plop_ , panting heavily in the silent darkness of the apartment with the only light source coming from the moon through the window.

"No…fair…" Ezio half pouted, half exhaled deeply, casting a slightly hurt expression towards the Arabian man, who all but gave a small, mischievous smirk in victory.

"Take me now…before I change my mind…" Altair demanded in between intakes of breath, his husky voice filled with desire as he gazed with dazed hazel hues.

Without so much as to pause to question, he reflected his trademark Auditore smirk and replied, "As you wish… _bello_."

Both the shirtless Eagle Assassins wasted no time and pressed their lips upon one another's heatedly once again to continue their sexual escapade together with ruffled movement of the sheets being tossed aside, tan flesh against each other and the cries of moans muffled within the walls of the apartment complex.

_**From Midnight Lust to the Next Morning…** _

Altair laid on his back with Ezio cuddled next to him on the couch, both sound asleep with a plain white sheet covering them from the waist down. The previous night had been rather wild and exciting, may even be the best night for the two as Ezio would describe it in his own words. The moaning, the groaning, the begging, the feel of burning flesh, the sound of skin against skin, the whimpers. Yeah, the details goes on yet the images would never be forgotten.

Emerging from the kitchen after grabbing a cream cheese toaster strudel for on the go, Desmond waltzed right through the living room to the door with his shoulder bag in tow. It only took a split second for his eyes took a glance over his shoulder then stopped as he did a double take at the sight of his Assassin ancestors. A what-the-fuck expression with a combination of confusion formed as he stared, blinking multiple times. Many unanswered questions zipped through his mind before going completely blank, not sure on what to think and/or say. Speechlessly, he decided against wanting to know anything and casually exited out the door.

A pair of eyes averted to the door then to one another as smiles stretched across full lips.

"You reckon he know?" Ibn-La'Ahad more likely asked than stated.

He felt vibration against him when a chuckle reverberated in the young Auditore's chest. "No, not at all." He then yelped in utter surprise when muscular arms grabbed his waist and rolled onto his back, his wrists forced above his head in a firm grip while Altair straddled him with the sheet falling just to his lower back. "Altair…?"

Said tan-skinned Assassin lowered himself down enough to whisper in the other's ear, slightly smirking. "My turn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Bello [handsome (masculine)]  
> Mi dispiaci [My apologies/I’m sorry]  
> Si [yes]


	8. Thirsty

Hazel orbs underneath the white cowl gazed contently downward into the green substance. Creations in this modern world were way different from the ones he knew. It was made him curious of what these substances were. More importantly, his biggest curiosity was what could be inside of the plastic bottle he was holding. It was strange beyond anything he had seen, aside from the bottles of red wine he had in Masyaf.

Clumsily, he unscrewed the top off of the bottle then drew it under his nose and sniffed. It definitely smelled, but it was neither foul nor tantalizing. His curiosity-killed-the-Eagle side grew more within him. But he took a moment to ponder. What would happen if he tasted it? How will it taste? Will he like? Or will he regret it last time like when he accidentally drunk out of the toilet. He visibly grimaced at the idea and the image of himself vomiting, hating the wretched taste of his own stomach acid.

 _Still…I wonder._ Pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind, Altair placed the bottle up to lips and took a swig of it. Not after a second or two of the liquid going down his esophagus, he started violently coughing while dropping bottle onto the floor in the process. The taste was horrible than he imagined and different from anything he had drank before. The worst part was mainly the burning sensation in his throat, which was making it a little difficult to breathe.

He leaned over the sink, his hands scrambling to turn on the cold water knob. Once he succeeded, he put his mouth under the faucet to consume large amounts water in hopes of washing the liquid down. Whatever that was tasted ten times worse than dump and urine-contaminated toilet water!

Desmond then appeared at the doorway, half of his body visible. "You okay, Altair? I heard you coughing."

The silent Assassin was incoherent as he did not respond or removed himself from the sink. Blinking, Miles averted his gazed down to the spilled bottle all over the bathroom floor. He casually bent down to pick the bottle up then flipped it over to the front.

He sighed. "Tell me you did not just drink this bottle of rubbing alcohol."

Altair finally emerged from the sink, a sickly expression on his features. "I…feel sick…" He groaned, unable to talk more than he wanted to.

Quiet for a moment or less, the descendant shook his head in shame at his 12th Century ancestor and replied, "Let me go call the ambulance and see if they can take in a highly-dangerous-but-sickly-poisoned-with-rubbing-alcohol Assassin."

He turned to leave while shutting the door, knowing fully well that he might be wanting to be alone, and grimaced a bit at the sound of him retching and gagging in the bathroom.

"What happened?" Ezio asked while leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, sending a worried look at him as he passed by.

"Drunk some alcohol when he was not suppose to, but he'll be fine," he reassured, pausing to take out his cellphone to dial for a nearby hospital. _I only hope this doesn't cost me my whole bank account, though._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have yet to realize how much I enjoy torturing these guys. What shall I ever do?


	9. Curiosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Slash/Smut/Yaoi

"Altair~!"

A pair of gold hues opened. _Oh, Allah, no…_ Altair hated times like these when the morning was quiet, just how he preferred it be, but then broken as the sound of his name being called by none other than Ezio. He loathed when the damn fool wakes him up, even when he was trying to get some rest. Oh, how he wished he could slit that mouth of his with his hidden blade plunged in his neck as a-

"Altair!"

A sigh escaped from his lips. Shoving the covers from over his head, Altair situated himself so that he was sitting upwards. He watched as the young Italian pranced over to him before jumping onto the bed, earning a glare at the childish action, with a grin plastered on his face.

"Altair!"

He continued his staring, face emotionless.

"Altair?"

"…"

Ezio poked his arm once. "Altair…"

"…"

 _Poke, poke._ "…"

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…?"

"…"

"…!"

"…"

"…Alty."

That seemed to hit its mark. "Do _not_ call me that," the Arabian seethed, eyes narrowing.

Ezio looked satisfied and ignored the look he was given. "Look what I found."

An item was then shoved in Altair's face, making him to jerk back a little. An eyebrow rose upon seeing a palm-sized, clear-colored object in the shape of a circle. He took the object into his hand and gazed at it in question.

After a minute or so, the Arabian focused his attention upward again. "What is this?" he asked monotonously.

The Italian shrugged. "Found it in Dez-mund's room."

He said nothing as he yet again stared at it in silence.

"I, uh…" He scratched the back of his head. "I was bored, so I decided to go explore around the place, and, um…curiosity got the better of me. So, I…went into his room and…found this."

Again, Altair kept quiet, watching with a stern face as Ezio smiled sheepishly. "You woke me up…just for this?" he slowly asked more than stated, sounding somewhere of being upset.

Ezio, once again, shrugged while tilting his head. "Kind of."

Ignoring the oncoming urge of wanting to punch him straight in the face, he sighed. "What do you expect me to do with this…plastic ring?"

"If I do recall, I think you are suppose to put it on."

"Put it on?"

" _Si_."

"Put it on where?"

"Ezioooo!"

Both ancestors stopped upon hearing the familiar voice yell. Simultaneously, they removed themselves from the bed to go to the source. Desmond was standing inside his own room with his mouth hanging wide open, looking stunned dramatically in the face. Poking their heads around the door, the two saw that the whole room was completely trashed with all sorts of clothes, items, and other things scattered everywhere. And by the looks of it, Miles looked somewhere between disbelieving and pissed.

"What did you do to my room?!" he all but yelled without turning to them.

Ibn-La'Ahad answered, "I was sleeping."

Auditore answered, "I was exploring."

Their descendant whipped around to face them. "In my room?!"

"No."

" _Si_."

"Would you stop being an idiot and come here!"

Both Assassins obeyed and stood before him, Altair looking indifferent as usual while Ezio was trying to look all innocent.

Desmond shifted from one foot to other as he rub his temples and sighed. "Explain to me why. Just…why." He raised up hand up quickly when he sensed who was going to speak. "No, not you, Altair. I'm asking Ezio."

The Assassin closed his mouth as the other rubbed the back of his head shamefully. "Well, _mi amico_ , I, uh…sort of got bored…and-"

"Decided to trash my _entire_ room just for fun?" Desmond finished, casting a scowl in his direction.

Said young ancestor nervously chuckled. "Not really."

Miles all but kept glaring at him, seeming highly upset. His eyes then trailed over to the silent Assassin holding something in his hand. Both hazel orbs widened as he immediately jerked it out of Altair's hand. He then lifted up so that the three of them could see.

"This…" he started, waving it in the air. "This is what you were looking for?"

Ezio hummed a bit, trying to find the right words to say. "I just found it when I was in your room."

"You mean _trashed_ my room." The hand holding the plastic item dropped back down to his side as he looked up at the ceiling. "Why did I let you two stay with me in the first place?" he questioned aloud to no one in particular.

"Because you love us," the Assassin said, smiling.

"Hardly." He sighed. "Look, here's the deal." This caught both of the Eagles' attention. "Ezio, you will have to clean my room."

"Do I have to?" Ezio whined.

"Yes, since you did it. Besides, I got inspection tomorrow, so you're fit to clean it."

He groaned as Desmond patted his shoulder and left the room, hearing his footsteps descending to the kitchen. Auditore sighed, muttering under his breath in his native tongue as Altair let a smirk graze his lips while chuckling at him. He just scowled at him, mumbling, " _Fottiti_ " then proceeded to do what he had to.

_**An Hour or So With A Series of Whining and Pouting Later…** _

Desmond was laying lazily on the couch in the dark living room, biting on a half of a sandwich he fixed with a tall glass of Coke sitting on a cup coaster on the coffee table. He chuckled at watching a funny scene happening on his favorite television show, _The Big Bang Theory_. Unbeknownst to him, two shirtless figures loomed over him as he laughed more at the actor playing Sheldon trying shoo a Blue Jay bird out of his apartment.

"Dez-mund!"

At the sudden shout, Miles jumped in shock while swallowing a whole piece of his sandwich, making him choke as he patted his chest to clear his throat. Coughing, he stated, "Announce yourself when you come in here!"

"Your room's clean."

"Took him long enough to do it," Altair added, ignoring the look sent his way then turned to go back to the room, presumably wanting to be the first to take a shower to have the hot water while the opportunity was still standing.

"What, you expect a reward now that you did?" the brunette descendant inquired.

Ezio was quiet for a few seconds. "Perhaps. Although, you can tell me what that ring I found is and what's it used for."

 _Dammit, I knew he was gonna ask!_ An uncomfortable feeling arose in Desmond's chest. "It's nothing you need to know, knowing how you are."

Auditore leaned over the couch arm to gaze at him closely. "Can I guess?"

"I guess…"

"Is it for the penis?"

Blushing slightly, he averted his sight back to the television.

"Ah, so it is." A smug smirk stretched across his lips.

"Yes, a…latex condom. I hope you're happy then," Miles said rather quickly, wanting to change the subject.

" _Si_ , that I am."

Auditore then rounded to the end of the couch where the young bartender's bare feet were then proceeded to crawl on top of him, catching the speechless man by surprise. "Let me return that happiness to you, now," he whispered huskily, his Italian accent thick and deep with a hint of seduction filling it.

Desmond gasped when his lips were caught into the other's warm ones, feeling the young adult adjust himself so that he was straddling him as he stiffened. He had never kissed anyone, and definitely did not plan on having to kiss a man. He was unsure of whether or not to comply when felt Ezio move his lips against his in a slow but sensual way. Then, he felt the Italian part his lips with his tongue and slither inside his own mouth without any permission, causing a sharp sound to emit from him. A part of him was starting to like the warmth of the brown-haired's touching his slightly cold ones from the drink he had, making him want to enjoy it while it lasts. Knowing Ezio, he was not going to get out of this so easily, much to his unfortunate displeasure. _Damn Ezio and his lustful desires._ So, to make the best of the time, he responded by pushing his head upward a little to meet his ancestor's, hearing a low groan in happiness of the acceptance.

With their lips locked, their tongues engaged in a battle of dominance.  He had to admit that the Auditore was a skillful and passionate kisser, especially with his tongue and with the thought of this being so wrong, but feeling so right made him actually want this intimate moment to last forever.  If this was how he did with the ladies, then he sure as hell was better than he expected.  The fighting continued for a good few minutes before the loser, Desmond, gave up and let Ezio in, feeling him smirk into the make out in victory.  The fleshy organ made sure to never miss a spot or crevice it could find and/or reach within its path, heavy sighs emitting from both of the men in utter satisfaction.  Said Assassin enjoyed the feel of running his tongue in another’s mouth, even sampling the taste of the Coke soda he drunk earlier along with the sandwich he ate on.  Miles could not help but to moan for the intimate kiss was the best, no, the greatest he ever experienced, and trailed his hand up to the dark-haired’s cheeks then moving up to untie his long, curly hair while the other was placed on his neck to deepen the kiss.  He may seemed like he wanted this to stop, but Desmond could feel his body heat rise and emotions betray him, so he had no choice to but to go with it.  What felt like half an our later, the kiss finally broke with a loud, wet _plop_ , panting heavily in the silent darkness of the apartment.

“I never dreamed…of actually doing that…with another guy, of course…” Desmond exclaimed through deep pants.

The Auditore hummed in amusement.  “Your first time, eh?”  Receiving a nod, he lowered himself unto his lips barely brushed against his ear.  “Relax as I will make this worth your while, _mio caro_.”

The ancestor’s descendant visibly shivered at the proximity, warmth, and seduction within the Italian-accented man’s voice.  He could not deny that he loved it.  It even made his crotch twitched in arousal.  His full lips was captured again into a more heated kiss than the previous, making him groan in pure satisfaction.  Ezio smiled into the kiss and chuckled inaudibly and could not help letting out a groan while taking the opportunity of busying his hands of unbuttoning said man’s dark button-up shirt.  While still in the process of his actions, the slightly taller man broke from the kiss then started trailing butterfly kisses from Desmond’s jaw to his neck, giving a few licks and soft nibbles on his skin.  Once he moved over to the space between his neck and collarbone, a sharp gasp drew from the young bartender’s throat.  Ezio paused and smirked, knowing he had found his weak spot.  He repeated it once more, only this time biting down on the spot with his teeth and sucked on the area.  This caused the other to arch his back as his breath quickened while he placed both hands in the Italian’s long locks.

“…E-Ezio…” Miles half breathed, half moaned, feeling the pleasure sweep over his hot-tempered being as his eyes fluttered shut.

Ezio continued his assault on his neck, giving a groan in approval as his hands finally undid the last button of the other man’s clothing then pressed his torso against his.  He loved the mere sound of his name being said by another person for it made him more aroused.  He was known for being such a great, no, wonderful multitasker and lover since he did had his fair share of experience at the start of seventeen, which he was blessed and thankful for.  Of course, he already knew this as a fact from the perspectives of various women who had witnessed it themselves.

A frustrated sound rumbled in Desmond’s throat as pain occurred on his discovered weak spot on his neck and the tightening in his pants.  “Quit whatever you are doing and take me now,” he commanded, growing slightly impatient.

Auditore stopped attacking on the his neck, seeming satisfied at the darkened mark, a hickey, on said man’s neck he left then leaned up to face him with their lips brushing ever so lightly and golden orbs glowing.  “Patience, _bello_ ,” he whispered lowly, placing a tender kiss on Miles’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth.

Said _assassino_ withdrew before Desmond could respond back to the kiss, making him a bit disappointed.  Ezio lifted his body with one hand on the cushion of the couch to balance his weight while the other slithered it way down the dark-haired American’s torso, trailing over a sensitive, hardened nipple.  He watched contently as Miles exhaled a shaky breath and arched his back off the couch a bit.

“…P-Please…” he breathed out, biting on his bottom as he looked into the other’s eyes pleadingly.

“ _Per favore, che cosa_?” the Auditore inquired, indicating that he was listening and waiting for him to tell him what he wanted to say as his hands stopped just below his chest.

“…Suck…m-me…” Desmond begged, blushing at the mere sound of his voice and the words coming out his mouth.

A small, loving smile stretched across his scarred lips.  “We will get to that soon, _mio amore_.”

With that said, Ezio resumed of letting his hand move down the male’s muscled stomach then glided back up to his chest, feeling the need to explore his body.  Desmond squirmed underneath him, hating to wait and wishing he would just take him already.  He could even feel the bulge in his lower region made him uncomfortable, anticipating the moment of being released from its tight restraint.  The Eagle then scooted further down from his descendant’s waist, all the while, guiding the tips of his fingers southward while hearing Miles breathing hitch in his throat.  His orbs of gold watched the two hands undo his belt, pulling it out of the belt loops then tossing it onto the floor.  One lightly tanned hand expertly pushed the button out the hole then unzipped the zipper.  Ezio turned his gazed back up to him, long hair cascading over his shoulders and few bangs in the way of his eyes.  Said bartender felt turned on by the look, making him shift about with anxiety and excitement.  Auditore da Firenze cast that trademark smirk of his, knowing he was making him wait and loved the look directed to him.  He knew he was such a tease since it was one of the many things he enjoyed doing along with driving the other person crazy and on edge.  And that was how poor Desmond was experiencing this.

Miles lifted his hips up, pushing the hardening bulge against Ezio’s own showing through the white boxers.  Both of them let out a shuddering groan at the contact like an electric shock flashed through them.  Deciding to press on, the brown-haired ancestor used his hands to grip the pants by the hem and slid them off down the lying man’s legs before discarding them to the side then straddled his waist again.  He proceeded to grind against the future Assassin’s erection, arching his back as he moaned in ecstasy.  Desmond let out a cry and whimpered at the touch of their members, gazing with desire and want at Ezio’s muscular body aligned with scars in various places and could not help but to run his hands all over the Italian’s skin and body.  They both felt like they were in heaven with their eyes closed and mouths open as gasps, sighs, and silent moans emitted from them.

“…E…E-Ezio…”

“…D-Des…mond…”

Desmond gave a small smile.  After all the difficult times, he finally got his Italian ancestor to say his name right.  He was happy yet proud, a little of himself, but mostly of Ezio.  _Heh…about damn time, too._ Seconds passed on as the two never stopped gyrating themselves on one another, nothing but the sounds of their moans and groans filling the living room with the television still on.

“Ezio…p-please…” Miles shakily spoke out.  “…don’t keep me waiting…”

Without responding, Ezio leaned down and placed a tender kiss on Desmond’s lips before sliding off of him.  Confused, he was about to open his mouth when he felt himself being lifted quickly into a set of strong arms and over a muscled shoulder, yelping with surprise.  A chuckle sounded from the Auditore Assassin as he carried him off to his room.  Once inside, he placed said man down on his bed after shutting the door quietly with his foot then climbed onto his legs.  Ezio grasped Desmond’s boxers then whipped them off effortlessly, earning a look before removing his own hastily.

After throwing both of their undergarment elsewhere, both assassini marveled at the sight before their eyes at each other’s most aroused part of their lower region.  Desmond subconsciously licked his lips.  Ezio was beautiful.  Uncut, smooth, and slightly dark with visible veins running up the length of the top side.  The shape of the head was clearly visible also through the enclosing foreskin.  His balls were on the same scale like a couple of golf balls nestling behind the long shaft.  It was no wonder that all the women in his hometown thought he was handsome and well-packed, from what he heard, anyway.  Even the image of being taken by it in either the mouth or the rear was more than enough to make him salivate.

Ezio averted his gaze down then chuckled, smirking seductively.  “You like?”  His smirk only widened when Desmond turned scarlet.

Laughing to himself, Ezio positioned himself in front of the erect member of his descendant, looking almost like his own except was an inch or two smaller in length but wider in width.  Desmond sighed as he felt his lips slide slowly down the shaft to his testicles, placing a light kiss on it afterwards.  He gasped and sighed when the brunette was exploring him carefully, kissing, licking, and sucking his balls into his warm mouth.  Ezio made a noise rumble in this throat of approval of what he was doing while his occupied mouth started trailing back up the hard shaft.  He flicked his tongue on the tip, receiving a lustful groan from the other man.  The Italian could already feel more than lust overwhelm himself, sensing it becoming hard to do anything gently or slowly.

Changing actions, Ezio took the erect organ in his hand and gently pulled the foreskin back.  The sight of the head coming out sent a wave of pleasure through him and swallowed the lump in his throat as his own cock twitch involuntarily.  He leaned down and slid the swelling erection into his mouth, moaning at the loving feeling of finally having him and continued taking him in until his nose made contact to the lower abdomen.  Once starting this, he proceeded bobbing his head up and down, sucking more intently than previous.  Auditore da Firenze cast his eyes upward, seeing Desmond with his head held back on the pillows with his mouth open as his chest, shining with sweat, rose up and down.  Everything felt amazing to his skillful mouth.  He could feel himself getting anxious of having him, wanting to be inside his descendant.  And that was what he decided as the final straw.

Lifting himself up to sitting on up straight, he mumbled hoarsely, “ _Dio_ , I can’t wait any longer.”

Ezio then flipped Miles over so that he was positioned on his hands and knees on the bed before stroking himself a few times to keep his member stimulated then moved in.  Before Desmond had time to register of anything else the ancestor said, a sharp, rather loud cry left his throat along with a string of curses at the feel of something hard entering his hole.  A hand covered his mouth while he arched his back, blinded by the pain as his heart raced and body shook on the bed.  Auditore cooed him, all the while, placing comforting, soft kisses around the young bartender’s neck and back while whispering soothing words in his native tongue.  It seemed to make an effect on the younger male, making him relax his tensing muscles and taking deep intakes of breath.

Breaking out of his dazed state, Desmond shakily panted, “I-It…h-hurts…”

Ezio sent comforting strokes down his back to ease him.  “I know. _Mi dispiace, amore_ , that I did not take the time to properly prepare, but I am so horny for you right now.  I will go slow for you, so do not fret, _mi amore_.”

Hearing that, Desmond tried to relax his body as he prepared himself for the worst.  He hissed, teeth gritting and eyes shut as Ezio’s member slid back out until the head remained inside of him then pushed back in slowly inch by inch again.  It was no wonder why some women rather not have anal sex if it caused them this much pain and worry.  It was just too much.  It was also for the fact that he, Ezio, was his first and only male partner to ever take him.  But he at least thankful that he showed him some mercy and was patient with him.

Said Auditore commanded him to lay flat on the bed, and he obeyed.  Taking him by the hips, the brunette Italian moved outward then inward in a slow pace once more, tilting his head back as he spoke in his language about how tight he was, how good he felt inside, and how he anticipated for this to happened for as long as he could remember.  It took Desmond for a while for him to adjust to his ancestor’s girth for the pain kept decreasing and was soon replaced by satisfying pleasure.  As he manage to find a suitable rhythm, his grip on the man’s hips became firmer while he picked up the pace after hearing the soft moan.

Miles soon was moaning along with the squeaking of the bed and slapping of their skin from behind echoing throughout the room.  But when the long member hit his prostate, he nearly screamed in ecstasy into a nearby pillow he was grasping and wanted more.  He just could not believe how good it felt to be taken in such a way.  Of course, he was not gay, but this was just a whole different experience that was too good to pass up.  By the way of Ezio’s grunts as he worked himself steadily in his hole, he too was having a wonderful time himself of finally getting what he oh so craved for.  He did not expected he would be able to take him all in, but it had been so long since he last remembered having intercourse.  But that did not matter.

A moment or so later, Desmond heard Ezio’s breath hitched as his thrusts suddenly became frantic.  He was going to reach climax soon and come inside him.  Grasping his lonely cock into his hand, he proceeded to stroke himself, wanting to come the same exact moment his ancestor do.  Miles pushed his hips back when the other pushed forward to deepen him further in his ass, senses heightening at the sound of flesh against flesh became louder.  Said bartender’s mind was going blank while he started giving out orders and talking dirty, bringing them both close to the edge.  Nails dug into his sides as both of them moaned and called out each other’s names simultaneously while reaching their climax.  Ezio growled and gave a final thrust as he tossed his head backward and arched his back, shooting his load of cum inside of the man he was making love to.  Desmond half shouted, half moaned into the pillow as he came, his seed spewing onto the sheets of the bed.

Both men collapsed, heavily panting and huffing while basking in the afterglow against each other's well-spent bodies. Ezio helped turning Desmond onto his side and brought him close to his chest with an arm around his waist.

"Amazing…" Miles commented in between pants of breath.

Auditore grunted in agreement, placing a kiss on his neck. "Excellent…" he responded in the same manner.

It was silent for a short time before it was broke by, "You think Altair…and the people downstairs will suspect anything?"

"Let them think what they like," he scoffed. Silence followed afterwards with the both of them catching their breath in the dark room. "By the way, Desmond, was this my reward for cleaning up your room from earlier?"

Desmond pondered on this and shrugged lightly. "If you want to think that way, then, yeah," he replied in sort of a 'I-don't-know-but-whatever-you-think' way.

A smirk appeared on his scarred lips. "I should dirty your room more often, then."

Miles rolled his eyes as the conversation ended there as they both fell into a deep sleep. _Yeah, you should._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amore [love]  
> Assassino/Assassini [assassin (singular)/assassins (plural)]  
> Bello [handsome (masculine)]  
> Dio [God]  
> Firenze [Florence (of Italy)]  
> Fottiti [Fuck you.]  
> Mi amico [my friend]  
> Mio amore [my love]  
> Mio caro [my beloved/dear/darling]  
> Mi dispiace [My apologies/I'm sorry]  
> Pene [penis]  
> Per favore, che cosa? [Please, what?]  
> Si [yes]


	10. Elders with Benefits

Altair sat on top of the rooftop, legs crossed over one another. The warm rays of the sun engulfed him, streams of crimson, orange, and yellow peeking in the distance over the buildings. It was a marvelous sight to behold. The temperate was neither humid nor cold for it was rather warm like it was in the early eighties. He inhaled a breath of fresh air and before exhaling contently. It was so much different from his homeland due to the dry heat and the lack of wind in the atmosphere.

"Aaahhh…uuuuhhhh…oooohhh…."

His head turned curiously to the source of the groans. It was an elderly man sitting outside of what looked to be a coffee shop, head held back with his mouth open as a newspaper was draped over his face. Was he…dozing off?

"Ooohhh…they finally caught the ol'…ol' hellish rascals. Mmmm…hmmm…"

Altair raised a dark brow. _What is that old man mumbling about?_ Curiosity suddenly got the better of him, so he decided to go investigate in a curiosity-killed-the-Eagle sort of way. Since Desmond was off somewhere, as usual, while Ezio was still sleeping in, he had every right to wander and explore however he pleased, no? After all, since he was not allowed to go free running, jumping, or climbing on things, he was really bored and itching to do something, mostly wanting to drive his hidden blade into a person's neck like he used to and giving him that excitement he always felt, something he oh, so dearly missed.

He skillfully made his way ever so silently to the elderly man, darting across the street hastily, all the while, avoiding from getting hit by a vehicle. His hand caught onto the neon sign before dropping down to his feet with a inaudible thud. Altair took cautious steps as he proceeded towards the grumbling man, hearing the snores and occasional muffling of unexplainable words coming from him. As he now stood from behind the old man's chair, he tried to use his keen sense of hearing to pick up what was being said.

"Mmmmm…please pass the…the whiskey with the…uuhh…the olives and avocado…" said elder mumbled from his slumber.

Altair blinked, face blank as he just stared. _Ol-lives…ava-cado…?_ He then cautiously reached a hand forward to the newspaper after waiting for a seconds until the elderly man went back to snoring.

The old man suddenly jolted in his chair and screamed, "What?! What?! Uhhh, who, aaahh, who's there?!"

At this, the Assassin only flinched by a slight while taking a step back from the elderly man, who flailed about before removing the newspaper off his face.

"Hmm. Ahh, must've fell asleep again. Ohh, those medications…so many to take all at once. It's like a…like a fat bitch high on powdered milk." After rambling on to no one, mostly himself, he finally turned around in his chair and looked up at Altair, who noticed one of his eyes were grey while the other was blue. "Ahh! Oh, God!" The elder quickly got up from his chair, fear written on his face. "You…you one of the I.R.S.? Oooh, please…please don't take me to jail! I-I know I haven't paid off my…my debt since my last wife died, ohhhhh, forty years ago. Or so I think…"

Altair was confused as ever by hearing the man talking about something called the 'I.R.S.'. _Whatever the matter is, he must not be taking his medication like he should, which explains his constant groaning._ He was halfway listening to the panicking man bickering about some other nonsense about 'his old days' and such, his eyes became dilated, a transparent grey replacing amber. By his Eagle Vision, the old glowed two shades of color, grey and blue. Strange. For as far as he knew, he never experienced or even seen a person or stranger being two colors at the same time. Why was that, he was uncertain. Half ally, half unimportant. Very strange, indeed.

Discarding the Vision, he focused on said man was stroking his long beard while observing him closely. A little too close for comfort, if he might add.

"Hmm. You don't…don't look like the I.R.S."

Altair was about to open his mouth when-

"Got it!" the old man shouted. "You're here for…for business, yes?"

"No, I-"

"Well, don't just stand there. Come in!" After that, he went inside the shop.

Said Assassin only stood there, blinking. He definitely regretted ever coming over. It was his damn curiosity's fault, though. Sometimes, he could not help it if he was, but knew it would one day be the death of him. So, without a choice, he dragged himself behind the elder. Besides, what could the older man possibly have to interest the Assassin, anyway?

* * *

Later that evening, Desmond stepped in through the front door with a couple bags of groceries, all the while, trying so hard not to drop them. Struggling with having to close the door with his foot and clicking the bottom lock into place with his pinkie finger, he shuffled tiredly while passing through the living room to get to the walk-in kitchen. He dropped the brown bags onto the counter then heaved a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, both Altair and Ezio were draped on either ends of the couch while watching an interesting episode on Animal Cops. As usual, they were only in their pants with the exception of Ibn-La'Ahad wearing a white tank and, as always, his detachable hood as to where the brunette Auditore was shirtless. On warms days such as this, who would not want to get comfortable?

Said descendant strolled in after putting the groceries away and took a seat in a single armchair. "So," he started, striking up a conversation. "What'd you guys do all day?"

Ezio gave a small shrug and yawned. "Sleep."

The bartender raised a dark brow. "That's it?"

"Yep," he answered, popping the 'P' while focusing on the television.

"Hmm." Desmond turned to his oldest ancestor. "Altair?"

The Arabian was silent for a moment. "I got a job."

This caught both of his descendant's attention as they almost simultaneously gave a look of bewilderment.

"You got a _job_?" Ezio was questioning in disbelief while fixing a 'I-do-not-believe-a-damn-thing-you-just-said' expression on his tanned features.

"Seriously?" Miles inquired next.

"Yep," the Masyaf Eagle mocked in the way Ezio did.

"Huh." He was totally speechless. "I don't what to tell you." A shrug of the shoulders and smile that read 'That-is-fine-by-me.' "When do you start?"

"Two days from now," Altair replied in that emotionless, deep tone of his.

Miles held up his glass drink in the air as a toast. "Congrats, Al. You've just taken the first step of the modern life of 2012 to becoming a successful individual."

Ezio inaudibly grunted and rolled his eyes, a glint of jealousy in his amber orbs. The Syrian did not speak another word, ignoring the nickname directed at him as an emotion of pride welled inside him. Taking the praise in, he could not help but mentally smirk and taunt the Auditore Assassin, something he uncharacteristically do. But the thing the two younger men do not know is that he will be working in a small café with a seemingly senile old man. That was to be kept to himself in secret.

All was quiet again as the trio watched T.V. like they normally do everyday in the apartment aside from playing action-filled video games. Suddenly, an idea struck Altair's curiosity, knowing all too well that it may kill him in the end. He laid sideways in his spot and crossed his arms over his chest. _This should get them good._

Clearing his throat, a smirk tugged at the corner of his scarred lips as he spoke in clear voice for the two to hear. "So…how was the sex?"

An even bigger smirk formed when Ezio lurched forward and spat out his drink of water in shock while Desmond froze with wide eyes, the bottle of Jack Daniels slipping from his grip and shattering on the hardwood floor upon impact.

_Revenge has never been any sweeter._


	11. Slender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's with these popular horrors? Seriously!

Altair sat on the windowsill in his shared room, gazing contently out at the sky with dusk approaching. Hazel orbs watched intently as the colors began to drain from the distance as the sun slowly sank behind the buildings. It was not all the time he ever got the chance to ever relax like this. Why? The place is forever busy and…loud. By loud, it means by loud, unnecessary distractions from Ezio. He could not stand the man interrupting or trying to cut over him in talking. What does he talk about? Nothing! Just always being the perverted person he was born to be, and making moves or being touchy. Then, here comes the interrogation of a thousand, no, _billions_ of questions, mainly about Altair's life. He could remember them perfectly.

" _Altair, how was your home different than mine?"_

" _Hey, Altair, was the Brotherhood any different than what it is now?"_

" _Altair, how come you do not speak much? You know people will assume you have no social life,_ si _?"_

" _Where did you say you were from again, Altair?"_

" _Were you a virgin back at home, Altair?"_

" _Have you ever bedded with a woman, Alty?"_

" _Al, if I may ask, who was Adha?"_

" _Altair, why are you so mean to me?"_

" _Was having relations with the same sex looked down upon in your time, Altair?"_

" _Altair, how many languages can you speak?"_

" _Altair…?"_

" _Altair!"_

" _Altair…"_

" _Altair~!"_

Ibn-La'Ahad was too busy growling and gritting his teeth in irritation with his hands clenched into fists to notice someone calling his name.

"Altair!"

He finally snapped to reality and whipped his head around to whoever was calling out to him. His eyes was met with Ezio leaning against the doorway in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, and felt his heart immediately flutter. He swallowed a small lump in his throat as his now lustful orbs took in the descendant's body. Long, brown locks cascading in waves like a waterfall over broad shoulders with muscled arms flexing under the slightest of movement. That tan skin, riddled with scars just like his own, glistening with water running down a well-toned chest and the delightful set of abs he oh so loved. Temptation was welling inside of the Syrian, wanting the desire to rip that towel off of him and have him.

"Is there something you like to see, _amico_?" Ezio questioned in amusement, hinting at the what got the Assassin under such a daze.

"Hey, guys," a familiar voice called.

Both ancestors turned their gazes to Desmond, who held half of a smirk on his lips with unexplainable eyes. Ibn-La'Ahad thanked Allah for him coming in just in time with the brunette Auditore feeling a bit disappointed. He really wanted said Arabian man for himself tonight.

"Hurry up with whatever you're doing. There's something I want to show you two."

"Which is…?" Altair pressed, his head perked in mild interest as to what it could.

The smirk became more apparent as he laughed a little. "Come and see for yourself." He then held up beer bottles. "First, you're gonna need to drink these."

Watching their descendant leave the vicinity of the room, the two Assassins gave each other a look, pondering on the surprise waiting in store for them and what the drinks had to do with it.

"S…Slen…derrr?" questioned Ezio, slowly blinking curiously at the screen to the desktop computer in dark room while scanning his shining orbs over the humungous and chicken scratch-like words.

"Aww, come on, guys," Desmond replied with sudden enthusiasm. "It's the month of October. This won't be so bad."

"I guarantee itsh will," Altair remarked with an emotionless, slurred tone, eyes half-lidded trying to stay open as the affects of the beer was making him want to fall asleep.

After that, their attention were focused on the computer screen as the game started. The screen then showed a dark forest with night critters chirping as footsteps moved against the ground. Everything was quiet, eerily quiet, and it made Ezio fidget in his seat left of Desmond. He was used to the silence, but it was just that with nothing happening, he couldn't help repeatedly suspecting that something was going to pop out and scare him at any moment. Come on, the boy has his weaknesses, so you have to give him some space, just like with Altair. But what did they know? They were drunk!

"What's…hmm…tah point, Dez?" the Auditore questioned, looking utterly bored.

"The point is to collect all eight pages without getting killed," Miles explained.

"K-K-Killed buyyy…?" Altair asked, raising his head a little.

"Slenderman."

His brows creased. "Wh-Who?"

"You'll see as we play."

So, the game had begun, starting off with the crunching of footsteps against a dirt road in haunted-looking forest. Auditore yawned loudly, sticking his tongue out much like an animal then sighed as he smacked his lips. Ibn-La'Ahad blinked slowly, letting his left eye slide close while looking completely stoned with that poker face of his. Oh, this definitely was going to be fun.

_**Seconds of Trudging The Forest Later…** _

"Got one!" Desmond cried as he clicked the mouse to pick up a paper off a tree trunk.

Ezio jolted awake, snorting as he did so. "Wha…?" he slurred, drool dripping on his chin.

"I got a page, and wipe your mouth," Miles said, casting his eyes to the Assassin disgustedly.

He did as he was told then tried to focus back to the game on the computer screen. All the descendant could do was shake his head then averted over to the other Assassin. Altair was quiet like he usually was, but the thing was that he had never spoken a single word nor moved an inch in his seat. Desmond reached around the back of said Syrian's head, and pulled down his hood, not expecting to see a totally stoned expression. Man, did look it.

"Hmm…Dezmund, wats…why iz ze muzic playin'…" Ezio questioned.

"It plays after you grab a page you have to collect," Desmond explained, moving his character with a key on the keyboard.

"How man-y ex…act-ly?"

"Eight."

" _Mer-daaaa_!" he shouted in, sitting back in his chair and almost causing himself to fall back on the floor.

"Stop…yellin'…Oz," Altair murmured, grunting to himself and not even bothering to look at neither one of them.

"Alty~!" He still persisted on shouting, frustrating to hear really.

"Shut the hell up, Ezio!" the Assassins' descendant whispered hastily.

"Make meh!"

"Fuck…meee…" Ibn-La'Ahad randomly trailed, making an unknown sound between a moan and groan.

Miles raised a dark brow at him. "Dude, what-"

" _Stronzo! Indietro! L'ho visto prima_!"

"What?" He looked at the ancestor like he had went crazy while the glare was being sent his way, making everything confusing.

From a chuckle to a laugh, the young Assassin smiled gleefully. "Mine…my Alty-air…cuz I iz a rapist…"

In response, Altair flicked his tongue out and wagged it childishly at the enraged man, earning a sigh from Desmond. _So awkward…_

'2/8 Pages Collected' the white words read in the middle of the screen.

"Dessy! Diz iz boring meh!" said Auditore whined like a child begging for a sweet treat. "Alty! Talk ta meh!"

" _La_ …novicccce scum," the older ancestor replied, dragging the 'C' with his face stoic as ever.

As the game's protagonist turned around to look behind, a sudden noise of an low-pitched piano key sounded as the screen began to static while a tall figure in a suit with no face stood. All three jolted in their seats, each emitting a scream/yell in fear. The American descendant merely jumped, hands flying in the air like he obtained jazzy hands, all the while, making the mouse fall off the desk's surface. The Italian fell off the chair to the side, scuttling on his hands and knees to hide under the computer desk then proceeded to hold onto the other's .legs for comfort The Arabian man's amber orbs widened, drawing his hood back over his head then brought up his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around them, proceeding to whimper like a baby. The game was instantly over.

"H-Hate…Slen-dur…" Ezio silently stammered under his breath, eyes wide while he began mumbling something in his native tongue.

The eldest of the three said nothing as a small whimpers was all that was heard from him. Desmond turned to get a good look at him, and was taken aback when a tear slid down the man's visible cheek. Now, he felt pretty bad. The Eagle who was once full of so much pride and ego had shrunk down to a crying kitten, frightened by Slenderman. Even though they had only played the game for no more than ten minutes or so, the result before Miles made him want to hug and comfort the guy. And that he did.

He leaned over to the man, wrapped an arm around some part of Altair's back while the other maneuvered him to bring him close to lay his covered head on his chest. "Shh, shh, shh," Desmond cooed like a mother would to her injured child, calmly stroking his arm to soothe him. "Slenderman's gone. He won't hurt you."

"Des…"

He only moved his head downward, seeing Ezio peeking from under the dark of the desk with a worrisome expression, brownish hazel orbs gleaming with fear written in them. He was not shedding any tears like the other, but the look he gave was all he needed to know that he was just as equally scared. If anyone else had been seeing his face like this, they would surely take pity and want to hold him in their arms. Reaching a hand down, Miles gently placed a hand on the younger Assassin's head to pull him close to rest his head upon his own knees, fingers brushing through the long, wavy hair.

"Come on," sighed the descendant, a soft smile spreading across his lips with a tone similar to an older sibling speaking to their younger kin. "Let's get you two to bed."

With that, and some difficulty, Desmond got the Assassins to stand, each one grasping onto his arms as he guided them back to their room. Once they were there, he pulled back the sheet and watched as Altair was the first to climb in bed, seeing as he liked to sleep by the wall, with Ezio making his way in last. He slid the covers over them and proceeded to exit our of their room until a hand grasped onto his wrist. The bartender stumbled slightly, turning to look back to see who it was.

"P…Please…" whispered Ibn-La'Ahad, which surprised him greatly, knowing he was never the type of man to ever say that word. "Don't…l-leave…"

 _The beer must be still lingering in their system._ His amber orbs switched over his Italian ancestor, who gave a pleading look up at him, lips pouted. The image itself made his heart wrench, so he had no other choice to make. Giving in, he muttered an "Alright" then let the Syrian man tug him over. The brunette Auditore da Firenze moved over to make space for him to climb in. Settled, Miles sighed contently with relief while the two ancestors of his cuddled on either side of him, laying their heads on his chest.

"Goodnight/ _buonanotte,_ Desmond," they simultaneously bid, nothing but their thick accented voices rumbling in the silent night.

Desmond could not help but feel his heart flutter, smiling at their cuteness. "'Night, guys." After that, he was engulfed into the world of slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Arabic [Meaning]*  
> La [no]  
> Tousbeh 'ala khair [goodnight (to guys)]
> 
> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Merda! [Shit!]  
> Stronzo! Indietro! L’ho visto prima! [Asshole! Back off! I saw him first!]


	12. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Slash/Smut/Yaoi
> 
> I forgot to thank you all for the lovely kudos, so thank you! :D

"Hmm...damn headache..." an Italian-accented voice groaned lowly to himself.

Ezio winced at the slightest of movement he made, the aching pain in his head throbbing madly like someone was repeatedly beating him with a sledgehammer. He had no choice to lay back down when he tried to sit up. Groaning again, he slowly peeked his eyes open, only to shut them tightly as the sun's ray of light suddenly made his eyes hurt. On attempt two, he all but slowly peeked open his brownish hazel orbs and sat up on his elbow. He reached a shaky hand up to wipe the sweat from his brow then stopped as he noticed something. His eyes cast themselves downward, staring face to face a sleeping Desmond right next to him.

Both eyes blinked a few times. Now, he was very confused. Why was he there? Did he snuck inside while him and Altair were sound asleep? Why was he sleeping on his chest, anyway? Was this some sort of joke he was playing? He could not even remember what exactly happened the previous night. Not a _single_ thing. Thus, making him feel stupid. When he tried, said man just sighed to himself quietly and muttered under his breath.

Auditore da Firenze grunted as he pushed himself to a sitting position then swung his feet out of the covers. He stood up yet too fast and almost stumbled back if he had not reached out to grab onto the dresser. Dizziness swirled in his eyes, making it seem like the room was spinning while a nauseating feeling churned in his stomach. He cringed, taking steady intakes of breath. After a few moments to recompose himself and tried to keep down that sickening sensation in his throat from rising, he pushed himself forwards.

Dragging his feet against the beige carpet, Ezio slightly limped into the bathroom and shut the door as quietly as he could before leaning his back against it. He had never drunk so much in his entire life, beer nonetheless. Mainly, he had tasted the finest wine bottles of _Italia_ from most of his teen to adulthood. How many he drank, he had not the slightest guess. All he knew was that the three of them had a few bottles of drinks then from that point on, he started acting crazy and out of character while shouting about some stupid mess. Then, Desmond wanted to surprise them by playing some game he had. What was it again? Oh. Slender. Yeah, he surely _never_ want to have to relive that memory ever again.

A small, barely noticeable shiver ran up his spine as the brunette Italian leaned his head up to stare himself in the mirror. His long, brown hair was disheveled in some places as tiny curls feel into his line of sight. His tanned complexion seemed a bit pale, but not in that weird 'Vampire-Suck's-sparkling-in-the-sun-like-Michael-Jackson's-glittery-glove-Edward-Cullen' way. A sudden feeling hit him painfully in the stomach as he immediately dove to the ground onto his knees, scrambling frantically to open the toilet lid then wretched all of his guts out.

Back in the room, Altair's eyes cracked open, the sound sensitive to his ears. His dark brows hidden beneath the white hood knitted together. The noise was enough to make him want to gag himself. He sighed then grunted, the sensation of fatigue overwhelming him. Why did he feel so tired? Did he not get enough rest? It did not feel like it all. What was worse is he could partially remember anything that happened last night. What did they do again? A part of him did not care so as long as it was not anything tragic or something that will make him regret everything.

Pushing any other questions he had to the back of his mind, the Syrian pushed himself to roll out of bed. A muffled thud was heard when he fell to the floor in between the bed and the wall. Pain shot through various parts of his body, muscles spasmodically uncomfortable. He did not even look hurt at all. No groan, no hiss, no cry. Nothing. To make matters worse, he was too irritated to care since the thumping sensation above his eyes was not making things any better and his throat was so dry, it felt like he was dehydrated. So, guess what? He is going to just lay there, too lazy to even summon the strength to get up and not giving a damn either.

A second or so later, Desmond awoke. He sat up and yawned while stretching his arms over his head. A sigh emitted from his mouth as he wiped around his half-lidded eyes. Unlike the other two, he had a good sleep since he did not consume any alcohol except one bottle. One was enough for him because he did not feel the need to get drunk. He simply planned to get the ancestors that way to have fun with them. And it was. Too bad it lasted for a short while. Mentally, he wished it could have been longer and that he could get them to play some Fatal Frame, but upon seeing the Assassins' reactions, it will have to hold off until another time. _Never knew they could get that scared under intoxication._

Miles looked quickly looked left then right when he noticed that the bed, recognizing to be his ancestors', was empty. _Where are...?_ His head snapped towards the door at the sound of retching coming inside the bathroom. He cringed in disgust. If there was one thing he could not stand, it was the sound of someone else vomiting. Everyone knows how that is like. The bathroom door in the hallway opened, and out came Ezio, who leaned the wall awkwardly with his frizzy hair shielding his face.

"Not doing so good, Ez?" the descendant asked with concern laced in his tone.

In response, there was grunt then the mumbling of something under his breath.

"What?"

"I..." the Italian began, raising his voice louder this time. "...feel like _shit_." The last word was emphasized in a gruffly manner.

"Hmm. Where's Altair?"

A nonchalant sort of a groan came as his answer. Desmond raised a brow towards the wall. He went down to crawl on his stomach then peeked over the bed. There, he saw the Arabian in a careless yet humorous position on the carpet floor.

Miles burst into hysterics. "L-Look at you!" he laughed, grinning from ear to ear. "W-What happened t-t-to yo-o-ou?" It was difficult to talk as he laughed harder, switching to lay on his side and holding a hand on his head.

Ibn-La'Ahad kept silent, looking disgruntled in the face.

He calmed down after having a good laugh. "Oh. That was funny." He then looked to the clock on the bedside table, it reading 11:45, then averted his gaze to the Assassin by the doorway. "Hey, Ezio, come help me with Altair then I'll fix some brunch."

* * *

A sigh. "Feeling better?"

"Mm hmm."

" _Molto_."

Desmond smiled. He was glad they were feeling better, and actually look better. The color that was drained from Ezio's face seemed to be coming back while Altair seemed less irritated, but still held that stoic poker face of his. He could tell by the tone of his voice and that he had eaten. Although, he could not cook to save his life, which is why he mainly buys microwavable products and easy food that were already cooked and frozen. The brunch he conjured up was light consisting of butter toast, sausage, and orange juice. He knew if they had ate larger amounts of food, with hangover effects still lingering and all, he would surely have a whole mess to clean up. Just picturing it was disgusting enough.

Desmond gathered up their plates to wash. When he had went to the kitchen and began running the water in the sink, Ezio, who had pondering for some time, blinked his eyes repeatedly as realization hit him.

"Altair."

Altair looked over at the sound of his name.

"I just realized something," he stated slowly, keeping his tone low enough for him to hear.

He did not say anything, only listened.

The Auditore turned his head to other Assassin. "He tricked us."

A hidden brow rose up under the white cowl. "How?"

His brow creased by a slim. "Is it not obvious? Desmond gave us the beer to get us drink then to scare us by playing that game," he said matter-of-factly, waiting for the other man's response to this.

Ibn-La'Ahad blinked and gazed over his shoulder at his descendant. "Which means...?"

"Revenge is in order." A sly smirk etched across the Italian's lips. "And I think I know just how."

Altair paused and caught on quick on what he was suggesting. As this would make the most fearsome devil cower in the presence of snow in hell, a devilish smirk stretched across his face. The two ancestors averted their gazes to each other and nodded in agreement. Too bad Desmond was too busy to even notice his upcoming demise being planned by the Assassins.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Desmond had fallen sound asleep early in his bedroom. Lucky for him, today was the weekend where he could finally rest all he wanted. Having to cook, using mostly frozen or box dinners to bake in the oven, and clean, knowing his ancestors did not know how to even do that is quite the shame since they believed it was a woman's job, he deserved a nap for that. It was getting close to night, so what else is to do besides looking after two Assassins? Nothing. The only thing to be concerned about was going to work, but that was two days from now. Oh, Monday, almost everybody's worst day of the week. Almost.

A chill passed through him, groaning and trembling in discomfort while goosebumps rose on his skin. Desmond woke up and was taken aback to find himself stripped of all of his clothes, naked. A cloth, or a rag, was wrapped around his mouth as a gag to prevent him from talking. Both of his wrists and ankles were tied to the head and foot posts of the bed with him lying in an 'X' formation. It was quiet around the room with the light source being the candle on scattered atop different places in the room. He wiggled and tugged at the restraints but to no avail. They were tightly secured to ensure that he could not escape. Panic began to rise in his chest as his eyes scanned around the room. Candles? Where did they come from? He did not remember buying any. What was going on? This was unlike anything that has ever happened to him in all of his life. He mentally prayed this was all just a dream or some sort of nightmare. It had to be yet it seemed so real.

Then, he felt it. A presence in the room. It was hard to notice. His mind could be playing tricks on him, but he was sure it was not.

"Good that you are awake," a deep voice spoke within the bedroom.

A voice. But from where? Desmond stirred lightly against the confinements, hold up his head to find where the source was. There, in the darkest part of the room stood two figures, one taller than the other. Their faces were obscured by the dark except for their torsos. That was all he could see before he laid his head back down on the soft pillow for the uncomfortable pain in his neck was becoming bothersome. The moment he did, the left and right sides of the bed shifted.

"Do not fret, Desmond," a low-toned masculine voice soothed quietly, the mere sound causing him to shudder as a pair of lips kissed his ear tenderly.

"You are safe in our hands," a second masculine voice whispered in reassurance, the accent different from the first who spoke.

Desmond froze. _That sounded like..._

A chuckle rumbled reverberated through the room. The two figures sat back up simultaneously, showing their more of their faces by the candlelight. He looked to the two and was shocked. Orbs of dark brown met with brownish-hazel and hues of gold. His heart did a dramatic Leap of Faith. Ezio and Altair. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat, or least tried to, at the sight of two shirtless Assassins. The Italian's long, brown locks cascaded in waves like a waterfall over the side of his face, eyes glinting with lust as they took in the descendant's nude form. The Syrian shockingly did not wore that white, detachable hood of his, stoic yet young, marble-carved features exposed by the light with gleaming eyes gazing down at him similar to a predatory eagle. Broad shoulders complete with muscled biceps and forearms flexing under the slightest of movement. Light and slightly darker skin, both adorned by scars from swordfights and battle completed with a chiseled, god-like chest and a delightful set of toned abs.

Desmond's mouth watered immediately. It has been too long. He had waited for so long for this, and hated the time it took for this day to come. He could not hide it. The longing expression in his eyes gave it away. Miles may have been shy at admitting it, but he had enjoyed the intimacy and love making he experienced with Ezio. For the past few days after that occurred, he started to secretly enjoy it and wished for more. It was unlike him to want that, but it had became too hard to resist, too difficult to push away. And with the thought of experiencing this new turn of event with not just the Auditore, but with Altair also made him excited in anticipation. He wanted this, _needed_ this, and swore that he will enjoy every last minute of it while he can. Thinking of being bounded as some whore, a sex slave, and being taken by highly skilled, dominant Master Assassins was more than enough to make his lower regions twitch and tingle in pleasure. A fetish, yes, but something he dreamed of.

A smirk presented itself across scarred lips. "Someone is rather eager tonight," the brunette Auditore stated, gazing down at his descendant's semi-erect member.

Altair hummed in his throat and looked down also. "Indeed, he is," he huskily replied, reaching his hand out to place slow, soft strokes with his fingertips around said man's inner thigh.

Desmond made a sharp sound between a grunt and yelp behind the cloth, thigh muscles flinching at the light touch. This earned another chuckle from Ezio as he leaned forward so that he was face to face, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Enjoy what we have planned for you, _amore_ ," he whispered, warm breath radiating on the future Assassin's covered lips.

A calloused hand gripped said descendant's chin firmly then turned his head over to face him directly. "Before we do anything, you must obey our orders without argument, fighting, or resentment. I get what I want as well as he. Understood?" It was not a statement but more likely a command, a pact he must keep at his end like his life was depending on it.

Desmond nodded quietly as he stared up into the now visible face of the handsome Arabian Assassin. He felt like a child or a puppy being given a warning before it can go off to play.

"Good boy."

Ending at that, Altair sat back up then reached over to the side where the bedside table was. Miles merely watched when he withdrew an ice cube. Goose bumps rose on his skin. This was not going to end well. The Assassin proceeded to lean down again, only to remove the cloth from his mouth then pressed the cube against his lips.

"Suck," he commanded lowly.

Having no choice, Desmond obeyed and took the ice into his mouth, salivating immediately to coolness and the water melting into his mouth. The hand with the missing ring finger reached back over to the small bowl and withdrew two more. He watched the ancestor pass one over to Ezio, who grinned wickedly. What did they have in mind? What were going to do with those? Are they...? His question was answered as the two Eagle Assassins each placed their ice cubes on either side of his neck. He inhaled sharply and made a sound in his throat, dark eyes widening while his muscles instantly tensed when they touched his skin. _D-Damn, that's fucking c-cold!_

"Relax," came the Auditore's voice whispering to him, lips placing soft kisses near his ear.

Desmond closed his eyes and rested his head back, chest rising and falling as he breathed in shaky pants. He then felt the two cubes trail slowly from his neck over his collarbone down to the middle of his chest, swirling in circles. Said descendant emitted a small groan as he lifted his head to look at the ancestors' actions. Altair and Ezio kept watch at his face expressions, eyes flickering to and fro from him to what they were doing. Not at least five minutes passed, and it was already becoming so much for him. Water ran down the side of his lips and past his neck as it was getting difficult to keep the ice he was suckling on from slipping out. But what if it did? Would they give him another one? Or maybe...something else.

Miles then felt the coldness move to either one of his nipples, causing him to gasp and flinch. Both made circles clockwise then counter clockwise, teasing them, instantly making a moan rumble in his throat as the sensitive nipples hardened. An arousing sensation caused him to shiver while his line of sight became a little hazy. He was beginning to love it all. The ice may have been a bit much for his liking, but it added the sexual tension. His hips moved upward before slowly laying back down on the covers, wanting attention to the lower region. But unfortunate for him, the ancestors were not going to divert their attention down their just yet. Oh, goddamn the waiting.

The bed dipped as another wet ice cube was placed on Desmond's stomach, the muscles contracting. While the cube began to melt, water pooling into his belly button, Altair and Ezio mimicked each other by taking away their small ice cube from his already stiff nipples, and placed it in their mouths. Miles watched in mild interest as the two leaned forward then pressed their lips to each other's in a kiss. It was intimate and slow, each of them letting out little groans of pleasure as their tongues darted into one another's mouth and exchanging ice cubes. Something in his chest ached while he watched, forgetting all about the cold water on his stomach. He wanted that. If only he was not in binds right now, then he would have been more than happy to join in on the makeout session. It made him vulnerable with him watching while the thawing cube in his mouth was almost gone.

The kissing lasted for more than a minute until both Assassins broke apart with a wet _plop_ of their lips. The dark-haired Auditore hummed deep in his throat and licked his lips, smirking down at the quiet descendant. He leaned over him and flickered the semi-hardened nipple with his tongue while his other hand gave the other some attention, hearing Desmond inhale quickly and closed his eyes once more. Lips parted, Altair seek that as an opportunity and captured Miles' into his own. The kiss was rough yet sensual with his warm tongue pushing through without so much of asking for permission, exploring everything within possible reach. He did not care at all for this was too great. Experiencing his first kiss with Ezio was good, but Altair was different. He was just as skillful and passionate yet there something else to it that was hard to pinpoint. Everlastingly pleasing.

Breaking the contact, Ibn-La'Ahad lightly brushed his full lips against his descendant's. "Are you enjoying this, little pet?" he questioned, seduction etched in his voice.

Ezio stopped his assault on Desmond's sensitive nipple and trailed butterfly kisses down to his stomach. Once there, he began lapping up the water that ran off to the sides of his stomach. Said man squirmed as he gazed up into those golden hues he had come to love. They made the Syrian attractive and a beautiful eye candy.

"...Y...Y-Yes..." the American stammered, slightly panting.

Desmond felt his Italian ancestor worked his way from his belly button downward to his abdomen and placing cool kissing along his waist. He let out a groan and lightly bucked his hips. All of this slow teasing was making him impatient while the binds secured on his wrists and ankles were driving him insane. Pleasure ran through his body when cool fingers brushed against his erect member and inner thighs. Squeezing his hands into fists, he lifted his hips again, wanting the teasing to stop before he goes crazy. It was keeping him on edge.

Altair whispered huskily, "I want you to put that little mouth of yours to good use."

Half-dazed, all Desmond could do was nod. The older Assassin slid off of the bed for a mere second, feeling cold air sweeping over said young man's side. Rustling and a thud was heard as his gaze went over to the Italian. Ezio sensed his eyes, and looked up at him with his lips parted. That look marked on his tanned features with those brownish amber orbs glinting within the candlelit room and those soft, desirable scarred lips he wished to kiss. God, he was such a turn on and sure as hell loved it.

Desmond's line of sight switched over to the Syrian climbing back onto the bed. The first thing his dark eyes set on made his stomach drop and heart flutter when the man straddled his head. Altair was fully exposed and gorgeous than he thought to be. Neither was he big nor small, but above average size in length. Circumcised, rigid, and smooth. Delicate veins on a slightly curved upwards, ivory shaft with golf ball-like genitals nestled underneath. Miles could not help swallowing, gazing upon the noble prize before him. He was... _perfect_.

Ibn-La'Ahad let a smirk spread on his face. "You want this, don't you?"

"Y-Yes..." Desmond replied, feeling between embarrassed and shy like a girl would as he kept staring at the engorged member.

"Gaze all you like, but if you want this...you will have to beg me."

The brunette descendant snapped his eyes upward into the amber ones, a small blush appearing on his cheek. "...P-Please..."

He reached a hand down to stroke the other's cheek. "Please, what?"

Miles hesitated, carefully picking out the words he was going to say. "M-May I..."

"Mm hmm."

He licked his lips nervously. "...s-suck your..." He paused then shyly finished with, "...cock?"

Something flashed in Altair's eyes quickly before disappearing. "Say it again," he commanded lowly.

An ounce of confidence swelled inside of his chest as he let the words flow right on out without hesitation. "May I suck your cock...please?"

A chuckle rumbled throughout the room. "Such a good pet."

The hand on Desmond's cheek removed itself to take hold the hard erection then proceeded to bring it down upon his mouth. He then opened his mouth, awaiting for it like he was supposed to. Ibn-La'Ahad placed his left hand with the missing ring finger up against the wall for balance as he slowly ran the tip of his cock around the younger man's lips. Warm met cold, bringing the Assassin to hum quietly.

Ezio, all the while, continued running his calloused hands all around the bartender's thighs down to his inner thighs then up abdomen, slightly grazing the erect member. He placed a feathery kiss on the swollen head, glancing northward at the other two. Orbs of brownish gold stared at the Arabian's ass, watching the slight movements of his hips pushing forward then backward. The sight made his own member twitch, anticipating for when he will have a go to fuck him. Auditore _da Firenze_ moved his gaze back to the hard organ in front of him that was yearning to be attended to. And he did just that.

Ezio slide his lips slowly down the shaft to his testicles, placing a light kiss on it afterwards. He heard a gasp and sigh come above as explored him carefully, kissing, licking, and sucking his balls into his cool mouth. Altair smiled while looking at the expressions fleeting from one to another on Desmond's face. Waiting for the right moment, he pushed his hard member into his descendant's mouth, closing his eyes and moaning lowly.

"Mmmm...take me in, Desmond..." Altair groaned as he let the younger male adjust to his girth.

Miles shut his eyes and calmly eased the ancestor's cock more into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He had to keep himself from gagging while taking steady breaths through his nose and letting his throat relax. Said Assassin moaned something indescribable in his native tongue then continued onward, moving his hips forward and back in a slow pace. Desmond was a bit surprised for his Syrian ancestor being this patient with him. Whether he was intentionally doing it on purpose or not, he loved the salty taste of pre-cum on his tongue, even if it was bittersweet. It lead him on more.

Ezio made a noise rumble in this throat of approval of what he was watching while his occupied mouth started trailing back up the hard shaft. He flicked his tongue on the tip, receiving a lustful groan from the other man who was now suckling on Altair's cock, all the while, enjoying it. The Italian could already feel more than lust overwhelm himself, sensing it becoming hard to do anything this. The erotic scene of his descendant being fucked in the mouth by the Master Assassin was more than enough to have him craving for more.

Ezio stopped for a moment to remove his pants, relishing in the release of his hard member. He positioned himself again over the young bartender's legs, took Miles's erect organ in his hand and gently pulled the foreskin back. The sight of the head coming out sent a wave of pleasure through him, his own cock twitching involuntarily. He leaned down and slid the swelling erection into his mouth, moaning at the loving feeling of finally having him and continued taking him in until his nose made contact to the lower abdomen. Afterwards, he proceeded bobbing his head up and down, sucking more intently than previous. Auditore _da Firenze_ cast his eyes up north, seeing Desmond's chest rising and falling rapidly with Altair working his member in his mouth, series of little moans and grunts emitting from his parted lips. With own feeling left out, Ezio moved his free hand southward until it grasped and stroked it in a similar speed of his occupied mouth, letting his imaginative fantasy take over.

Night had came with moon high in the sky outside the apartment window. The cold atmosphere now filled with the sounds of slurping, vibrations of moans, groans, and sigh of all three men, each of their bodies coarse with pleasure. Desmond was now used to having a member moving in and out of his tingling mouth as he hungrily sucked on the soft shaft. Altair was driven with lust as he thrust his hips back and forth, panting and muttering incoherent words under his breath with sweat glistening on his bronze skin in the candlelight. Ezio kept bobbing his head and occasionally forcing more of the throbbing cock into his throat, moaning to the rhythm of his occupied hand on his own manhood. All felt like a dreamful heaven.

As he felt his body growing hot with the coming onslaught of his orgasm, a large hand clamped onto Desmond's head and pulled it closer. Altair's muscles tensed while his back arched and threw his head back, letting out an animalistic, almost inhuman growl as he gave one last thrust and shot his cream into the young descendant's mouth. Miles could taste the bittersweet cum down his throat and felt turned on. He could not handle it any longer as he bucked his hips hard and groaned loudly as he felt himself cumming into Ezio's warm mouth. The Auditore grunted into approval, swallowing the liquid as his breathing hitched in his throat at the approaching orgasm. Thinking quickly, he suckled the last drop of seed from the descendant's member then scurried onto his knees on the end of the bed. He proceeded to straddle the young man's legs and continued to stroking himself fast, shoulders hunched over until he could feel his threshold close to reaching its peak.

"... _C-Cazzo_...!" Ezio half-shouted, half-gasped, eyes shutting tightly as he painted his seed onto Desmond's stomach.

Exhausted, both ancestors backed off Miles's body and dropped to the empty space on the mattress tiredly. The three of them laid there, chests rising and falling with their lips ajar. Their drenched skin shone under the moonlight through the window as they basked in their afterglow. It had been such a long time since they have ever done this. After an event such as that, you would think that they all would have had enough by now. However, it all was not going to stop here. There was more to be done.

Desmond let his body rest while looking over at one of his ancestors. "A-Altair?"

"Hmm?" said Assassin answered.

He closed his eyes, concentrating on what he was about to say. "More..."

The Syrian averted his hazel orbs to him. "I can't hear you."

"More," Miles repeated, raising his tone by a slim. "I want more."

A hand reached up to firmly yet gently grip his descendant's chin to make eye contact with him. "More of what?"

He swallowed. "Both of you. To make me hard again. To feel you inside me, inside my ass. Please...I'm begging you. Take me. Fuck me. Make me yours and yours only." The sound of his own voice made Desmond's cheeks flush as he gave the Assassin pleading eyes.

Altair placed a long, sensual kiss on said man's lips, both moaning as they did so before they broke apart. "Such a wonderful pet."

By this time, Ezio had climbed up to the unoccupied side of him and whispered in that deep, lovely Italian voice of his, "Naughty and kinky. I like that." His tongue slowly ran up the of the descendant's ear, making him shudder. "The fun is just beginning, _caro_."

Desmond groaned in his throat. He sighed in relief when he felt the restraints on his wrists and ankles loosened and was able to move freely. It was about damn time because if he was kept tied up, his limbs would become stiffer than what they are now. The weights on the bed shifted when Ezio switched placed with Altair at the head of the bed and brought their mouths together into a hunger-driven kiss whilst said descendant ran his hand through the wavy locks of the Italian. All the while, Altair moved down to Miles's stomach and began to lick the Auditore's cum off in a teasing manner. He heard the young bartender groan and proceeded to stroke his flaccid member.

Desmond broke the kiss and hissed in bliss. "...Al...A-Altair..." he spluttered, watching the man stimulating him to erection again while feeling said man's short yet soft hair. Who would have known that he was this sexual?

Said brunette felt the bed shift under a weight then was met with a pair of hands grasping him by the shoulders. Desmond let the large hands guide him until his back was pressed against a hard chest as a set of light tanned legs tangled with his from underneath. Warm breath blew against his ear while a voice commanding, "Relax on me, _bello_." Like a good, obedient person, he did what he was instructed.

Ezio's legs spread Miles's legs wide open with his own. Altair silently marveled at the sight before his eyes, lust-written hues of gold taking in the image of the two on top of the other. But it was going to be him that will on the top. Ibn-La'Ahad licked his supple lips in appreciation, his long girth becoming on its way to becoming hard once more.

"Hold his legs up," ordered the Arabian ancestor, averting his gaze to Ezio.

Without a reply, the Italian ancestor did what he was told. Once Desmond's legs were stretched high in the air like he wanted, Altair moved hastily down in between both men's legs and took care to Miles's engorged balls. A moan sounded from said bartender above as he squirmed in his place. The musky scent of his sex organ immediately hit nostrils, causing a groan to rumbled in his throat. Ibn-La'Ahad switched over to the other testicle, giving the same amount attention like he did with the other one. Then, he trailed downward to the descendant's puckered manhole. Both of his hands spread open his ass cheeks a bit farther, wanting to get a better look. Dark and smelled of the same musky scent like his cock, adding more yummy goodness to the sexual tension.

Altair would have told Desmond to suck on his fingers to provide him some lubrication, but thought better. Instead, the ancestor gather saliva on his tongue and spat the same amount onto the hole. This caused Miles to flinch and flex his rear muscles in reflex. Nobody has ever done that to him, not a even a man for that matter. Of course, he never had sex with a woman before then had her to do it to him. He was still a twenty-five year old virgin. Well, that was until after being taken by the famous, fuck-everything-in-sight Ezio. If that even counts...

Pressing his index and middle finger together, Altair carefully and slowly pushed his fingers into the hot hole. Desmond inhaled a quick breath and groaned, muscles clenching around the digits invading his ass. It had been long when he was taken, so it was kind of painful. But said Syrian was fast to notice and slowly pushed further in until his fingers were buried within the dark, flaming cave. Ezio pressed the brunette more into his chest while muttering lowly in his native language to calm him down. Eventually, he did, letting his tensed body mold back into relaxation again while receiving a light kiss.

Altair went on to withdrawing his fingers back then pushing them back in. He did it in a steady pace for a several seconds until he heard a satisfied moan. What he did next was something Desmond dreamed would happen. The amber-eyed man let a ghostly smile graze his scarred lips then lapped the winking eye with his thick tongue. Miles let out a little squeal in delight and wiggled his bottom. The wet appendage licked and probbed the asshole for a short eternity before slithering inside the hot cavern. Ezio chuckled while holding onto the young bartender's long legs with his hands.

"You like that, huh, Desmond?" his deep voice murmured, brownish-hazel orbs glancing at the young American's face.

Desmond bit his bottom lip. "Y-Yes...oh y-yes..." he purred, overwhelmed by Altair's professional tongue and the tiny, cool breezes passing across his salivated hole. Just how in the seven sinful hells does he know how to please a man so good? It was a mystery because let us face it. He is an _assassin_. They do not kiss or show and tell.

Ending with a kiss, Altair removed his face several inches away from the now ready manhole. One of his large hands grasped Ezio's cock, giving it a few strokes and sucks until it was riddled with a mixture of pre-cum and his saliva. He teased Desmond's ass with the tip for a short while then pressed the head of the stiff tool against it. From there, Auditore _da Firenze_ groaned as he entered Miles's ass. It felt so good like the first time they had done it together, him and Desmond. So tight, so precious.

Through the small gap between his raised feet, Desmond's lidded, dark orbs made contact with the eagle-like gold ones boring down at his. "Hope your ready for me now, little pet," Ibn-La'Ahad stated huskily.

In response, the young descendant all but cast a kinky look in his direction. "I'm ready...master."

Altair wasted no time in grabbing his rigid member then lined it the younger adult's already filled hole. As he did so, Desmond suddenly stiffened at the realization. Double penetration. Panic rose in his chest Oh, god. Was he even ready for such a thing? It was more than he can already take. One was good enough as it is, but two? It was pushing pass the limit. Did he actual _wanted_ this? He could already tell he like a slut. How could one such as himself be willing to take on two at one time? He did not have the heart to. He could already see himself lying in hospital and not able to sit for a few days, maybe weeks even! What should he do? Make a run for it? Kindly ask to discontinue? Call for-

Miles's thoughts were cut short when he felt the manhood slither into his awaiting hole, a higher pitched moan escaping his mouth. Altair hissed and grunted in bliss upon his initial entry. Ezio bite his lower lip and moaned to the friction of another cock against his. For the three of them, it felt so satisfyingly delicious that neither one could hardly contain the urge to cumming right then and there. The Syrian took a moment of pause before inching his way deeper until he sunk all of himself inside the oh so hot, tight man cave. The exotic fullness caused Desmond's member to cream a bit. _A-Ah, god...So amazing!_

"Put his legs down," came Altair's rugged voice.

The long-haired ancestor let down said bartender's legs to rest on his own then wrapped his hands onto the man's waist. Altair got into a comfortable position of having Ezio's stretched his legs outward with Desmond's propped by strong hands at the knees and sitting on his own knees. The Syrian gyrated his hips, earning two different toned groans from the two below him. Leaning his athletic, strong body, semi-erect cock brushing against his lower stomach, he kept his intense eyes on his tanned prey underneath his being. Miles ignored the strain in his leg muscles, too captivated by the handsome Eagle. He was definitely ready. He anticipated the moment to come.

The lightly tanned under his body began moving his hips simultaneously with the bronze ones above, one moving outwardly then pushing back into as the other pulled out. Each was patient, neither rushing or pressuring the other. It took some time for Desmond to adjust to the multiple girths because of the pain that soon subsided with the Assassins' steady rhythm. His hands clutch into fists on the bed sheets and began moaning, leaning his head back into Ezio's neck. Not sooner than the moment he rested back, an electric jolt shot throat his body, causing an uncharacteristic sound to leave his parted lips. The noise came deep within his body

"A-A-Alta-ir~!" Miles shouted, sounding much like a slutty wanton would. He did not think his vocal cords could create that. No, it was a grunt of physical pleasure that the rest of his body had joined in creating to express the ecstasy he felt when the Syrian's cock hit his prostate. Damn, he was quick and so irresistibility good!

Ibn-La'Ahad attacked the American Assassin's neck, biting down on the weak spot he effortlessly found from much observation and growled into the skin. Ezio grunted and reached up from Desmond's hips to the Arabian's to bring him closer together. Taking the initiate gesture, both of their movements quicken up a notch. Miles succumbed to the two as they relentlessly pounded his ass, balls slapping against his skin. He felt pretty much like he was in another world, another dimension besides heaven. Being controlled and fucked by dominant-natured Assassins seemed like a fantasy dream a girl would have. Except said girl was him. He did not care. He planned to enjoy the hell out of it to the fullest extent.

Delicious noises consisting of moans, grunts, profanities, and creaking of the mattress springs was all that could be heard in the moon and candlelit room. More than enough time had passed until it happened. Desmond felt Altair's breath hitch against the same spot on his neck he been assaulting and thrusts become faster. All the while, Ezio's grunts gave way to a quick intake of air as he too thrust deeper into the descendant. Nails as well as teeth dug hard into skin 'til little blood was drawn. Visions were turning white while minds were going blank, cocks pulsating as each approached their threshold.

Miles quickly wrapped a hand around the Syrian's broad shoulder and placed the other on his lower back near the visible dimples above his ass. He arched his back all that could and repeatedly shouted in pure ecstasy, "Fuck m-me! E-Ezio~! A...A-Altair~!"

A snarl-like groan dragged afterwards. "...De...Dez...Des-mond...!"

The last cursed and strained out the name. "...D-Des-mond... _Mer_... _d-da_!"

With a final thrust, both Master Assassins rode the orgasm in waves and came inside of the brunette descendant. During that time, Desmond's mouth released another unidentified sound he never knew his vocal cords could make and came a second behind, his seed shooting onto Altair's toned stomach and on his own. Fatigue and exertion settled over Ibn-La'Ahad's body as he shakily removed his flaccid member from the well-spent hole then dropped on the other side of the bed. Ezio slowly withdrew his cock next out of said bartender, hearing him gasp before shifting over to lay beside him. All three Assassins panted heavily, their drenched chests rising and falling with rapid heartbeats. This had got to be the longest night they had ever spent in their whole lives.

"So..." Miles started, trying to catch his breath. "...what was...this...for, anyway?"

"Re...venge..." Auditore _da Firenze_ breathed out, the corner of his open mouth rising to form a smirk.

"Why...?"

"...Reasons..." Ibn-La'Ahad answered heavily between pants.

"Hmm..."

Completely drained, Desmond used what little strength he had left to move into a more comfortable position in the middle of his bed. The weight on said mattress slightly shook while both Eagles copied his actions after blowing out the almost melted candles out.

Right when everything was quiet and settled, a warm breath tickled his ear when the stoic tone of familiar Assassin spoke. "Discuss this with anyone else, I will not be so gentle and merciful with you the next time around, no matter the circumstances," the voice warned lowly, that sharp edge riddled with ice.

Desmond grunted, invisibly shivering at the tone and closed his eyes, letting sleep overcome him. _Slender…you are most certainly the evilest bastard in gaming history._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Arabic [Meaning]*  
> Habibi [love (masc.)]
> 
> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amico [friend]  
> Amore [love (masc.)]  
> Bello [handsome (masc.)]  
> Caro [dear (masc.)]  
> Cazzo [fuck]  
> Dio [God]  
> Merda [shit]


	13. Halloween

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The walking dead... are coming.

"Ezio!"

A sigh was heard as an Italian accented voice shouted gruffly, "What?!"

"Come here for a sec! Quick!"

Ezio yawned, stretching his body like a cat then heaved out another sigh as he pushed the covers off him. He slowly made his way out of bed, his ankles and knees making loud pops cause of stiffness. For the record, since they mostly stayed in the apartment, all he wanted to do was sleep under the warm covers and go back to dreaming whatever it was that dreams of. But if it is not the noisy streets or the honking of cars keeping him from doing so, it was always Desmond. It could have been worse if neither.

The Assassin dragged his feet to living room, finding the two roommates in their usual spots with Desmond in his one armed chair while Altair sat the far end of the couch towards the door. Another yawn escaped his mouth as he lifted his arms over his head to stretch.

"What is it, _amico_?" he asked tiredly, exhaling deeply while scratching his hip.

"Oh, nothing," Miles said, standing from his seat to go over to Ezio. "I need you to do something."

Raising a brow, he watched his descendant make his way into the walk-in kitchen. Ruffling and shuffling could be heard for a second or two until Desmond submerged with a small, circular object with sort of a brownish or maroon colored substance inside and a spoon in the other hand. Ezio took them in his hands and stared at them in wonder.

He lifted his head to give the bartender a look. "This is for...?"

Clasping his hands together, an all knowing smile stretched on Miles' lips. "Do you know about the costumes you kept ranting on about on television that you wanted to try out?"

His amber orbs lightened up. "You mean...?"

The brunette nodded. "Uh huh. If you do me this one favor..." He cast his eyes up at the ceiling with a secretive smirk etched on his features. "...we'll go shopping at the mall for Halloween."

"Really?! What do I have to do?! Oh, _mio Dio_ , I want to go soooo bad!" the Auditore da Firenze whined frantically, fully anxious.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed. "I will." He saw Ezio about to open his mouth to speak, but cut him off by holding up a finger. "But...if you accept this challenge..." His hands gestured to the items the Assassin was holding. "...we'll all go."

The ancestor paused for a moment, pondering on the matter until he nodded, saying, "I accept."

This caught Altair's interest away from the television as he turned his head, anticipating on what was going to happen.

"First, twist the bottle to the right to open it," instructed Desmond.

Placing the spoon in his mouth to hold, Ezio took the little, black bottle by the top and unscrew it like he had told him to then waited patiently on what to do next.

"Hold the spoon in your other hand."

He placed the top to the bottle in said bartender's hand then took the spoon from in between his teeth.

"Fill that in the spoon _carefully_ ," he emphasized, gesturing with his finger to the powder-like matter in its container. "Just a spoonful, though."

Nodding, the Italian did as he was told, tilting the plastic bottle and giving it little shakes to pour the matter into the silver spoon. The container was taken out of his hand to be set back down on the counter after its top was placed back on.

"Now, swallow it."

The Auditore looked up at him confusingly. " _Mi scusi_?"

"Swallow it." Miles saw the skeptical look directed at him. "You'll be fine," he reassured.

Ezio blinked then moved his attention down to the spoon, not knowing what to say. Inhaling then exhaling deeply, he took the spoonful of substance in his mouth. Immediately, he halted as he grunted. The taste seemed familiar, but he could not place what it was. It hard to swallow, so he had to force himself to do so. As soon as he did, he regretted it entirely and spat it out. Unlucky for Desmond, he got sprayed in the face, making him back away while trying to rid it out of his eyes. Ezio coughed, hacked, and dry heaved in an futile attempt to get it out of his throat, the burning sensation making his eyes water. He pushed past the bartender to the kitchen, rushing to the sink while his hands scrambled around to turn on the cold water. Once they were able to, he shoved his head underneath the faucet, gulping down huge amounts of water and taking occasional gasps of air. Altair just sat in his seat in silence, chuckling in amusement.

Sighing, Desmond turned to the Italian. "Sorry, Ez. You failed the Cinnamon Challenge. We can't go."

Wiping the water from his mouth, the Auditore gasped out in between breaths, "Why...not?"

He shrugged a little. "You failed, man. I can't take you."

Miles turned around, about to go sit down in his chair, when he felt something cling to legs and almost making him fall over. He looked down to see his Italian ancestor hugging his legs while on his knees. Blinking, he wondered how the hell he was able to do that so fast. Mentally, he facepalmed at the most obvious answer. The damn man was an Assassin, trained to do almost anything skillfully. _Almost_ , because not all of them were perfect.

Ezio leveled his gaze up at him, brownish amber orbs sparkling. _Oh, god._ "Please, Desmond," he begged, poking his bottom lip forward cutely. "Can we go?" If it was another thing he was good at, it was bringing up those puppyish eyes.

Silence filled the atmosphere, the two staring at each other. Altair was quiet as ever, not even budging from his current position on the couch. The television had been cut off a while ago because of nothing interesting to watch. All he wanted to know was what was going to happen next with the two like it was an actual soap opera, which he has yet to see.

A few minutes later, the twenty-five year old American rolled his eyes and gave in. "Fine. We can go."

Before he knew what was happening, Ezio gave a tiny scream when he was leaped on and engulfed in a tight hug. Strong arms then lifted him off the ground before being twirled around, hearing " _Grazie_!" and " _Ti amo, amico_!" coming out Ezio's mouth in a repetitive, excited manner. Sitting him back down, he grabbed Desmond by the cheeks, leaned his head down, then kissed his forehead. The happy adult missed the blush that forming on the descendant's cheeks. _Mall, here we come..._

* * *

"Incredible..." Altair and Ezio simultaneously whispered in amazement.

The store in the mall was humungous! Costumes of any and every kind was all around the place. Babies, children, teens, adults. All were separated into sections to make it easy to access to. They even had accessories, gadgets, makeup, and like sitting on shelves, even hanging up against the far walls. This...was like a costume paradise.

"Hello, welcome to Creepy Catches!" an enthusiastic blond girl greeted at the door, a wide smile on her red lips while being dressed as a devil to fit the theme. "Explore all you like. If you have any questions, concerns, or in need of assistance, come see me."

Breaking out of his daze at the sound of her voice, Ezio smirked as he made his way to a rack of costumes. Desmond did a double-take.

"Ezio, wait, you're-" He ran off to catch up with the Italian, leaving Altair alone.

The Syrian blinked, still trying to take in the newness of everything. After a moment, he headed off in a different direction than his descendants, towards costumes that were less...pink and frilly.

Miles found the Auditore in the naughty costumes section, smiling lewdly at the pictures of busty girls in the plastic sleeves. The modern Assassin pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a deep sigh. He had to get Ezio out of here and fast! They were being stared at.

"Dude, we can't shop here," the brunette said in a low tone.

"Why not, _amico_?" The Italian turned to his descendant, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"This is the _women's_ section," he emphasized, still in an undertone, glancing past Ezio's shoulder at the hot blonde who was raising her eyebrows.

"Nowhere better to find the ladies, no?" He turned his head to follow his descendant's gaze. When his brownish hazel eyes met Desmond's again, they sparkled with amusement and mischief. "Let's play a game, Desmond. If I can – how you say – ask that _bella_ out, you have to try this on." He reached out, grabbed a costume at random, and waved it in front of the other man's face.

"Now is not the time for dares, Ezio," Miles groaned, shoulders slouching.

"Well?"

Desmond sighed again. It was the humiliating method, but by far the fastest way of getting him out of here. "Fine," he said, agreeing to it. "But if she turns you down, _you_ have to try it on."

"Small chance of that, _amico_." With a wink, Auditore _da Firenze_ deposited the costume into Desmond's arms and turned around to walk towards the blonde.

Meanwhile, Altair wandered through the men's section. Many of these costumes seemed to have some joke attached to them, or so he assumed as he passed some teenagers laughing and pointing at some costumes high up on the wall. It was frustrating not understanding these 21st Century references. He hated feeling so slow.

When he walked past a particular costume, he stopped, and walked backwards to look at it again. He cocked his head, blinking his hazel eyes. That one, he liked.

* * *

Desmond could not stop chuckling. The dare had gone spectacularly. Ezio had sauntered up to the blonde, crooning something in his native tongue. Miles had not caught what he said, but he got the gist when the blonde rolled her eyes, tsk'ed, and stalked off. The ancestor had turned around, and then it was the descendant's turn to smirk as he handed Ezio the costume. Now, he stood outside the changing room as Ezio struggled with it.

"Desmond? I think I've got it…" came Ezio's muffled voice.

"Let's see, then," said Desmond, grinning.

The curtain twitched, and revealed Ezio...in a French maid costume. A black corset trimmed with white ribbon cinched his torso. The skirt was one of the frillier ones, with white lace underneath and a small white apron. Knee-high fishnets and a small cap completed the look. All he needed now was a feather duster for the prop.

Desmond burst into hysterical laughter, earning a scowl from said man-maid.

"What? You look great!" Desmond wheezed. "This is _so_ going on Facebook." He reached to pull his phone out of his pocket.

"Desmond? Is that you?" A familiar voice made him turn around. His laughter died immediately as he yelled in fright, jumping backwards into Ezio. "Jesus, Altair!"

"What? Does it look bad?" Altair stepped into the better light outside the stall right across from the younger ancestor's. If anything, the shadows thrown on his face from the cowl on his head made him look even more terrifying. The body armor he wore emphasized his powerful figure, and a dull gold belt accentuated his slim waist with a black cape falling from his broad shoulders.

"No, no, you are… the most convincing Batman I've ever seen." Regaining his composure, he straightened as Ibn-La'Ahad looked unsure. "Seriously!" he then added, grinning. Said Arabian beamed back, appreciating the compliment.

Ezio, however, peeked out from around Miles's arm, face expressing disdain. "That costume is too spooky."

The Syrian glared at the Italian. "That costume is too _girly_."

"It _is_ a girl's costume!" he wailed.

"Are you really going to wear that?" he asked accusingly.

"No, it was for a dare," Desmond cut in before things could get violent. "We still have to find him a real costume. But luckily, I have the perfect one in mind." He turned to the reluctant-looking Ezio. "Don't worry, no tricks. Change out of that. I'll be right back."

* * *

Fifteen minutes or so later, the trio of Assassins stood in line to check out. Altair was clutching his Batman costume to his chest like a favorite stuffed animal. Ezio held onto his new Jack Sparrow costume, still admiring the picture on the front. He had admired himself quite a lot in the mirror too, while trying it on. It had taken at least ten of those fifteen minutes to convince him that he could not, in fact, wear it out of the store. Desmond stood between them, satisfied the shopping trip had gone well.

Just then, two children ran up to them, a boy and a girl. The boy ran up to Altair and tugged on his sleeve. Not expecting it, he flinched and looked down.

"Hey, mister! That's a cool costume you got!" he said, pointing to the package in Altair's arms. "Look at mine!" He raised his arm, showing the older man his own Harry Potter costume, complete with magic wand.

Again, the Arabian stiffened, looking unsure. "That's...nice," he murmured uneasily.

"Ah, don't worry," Miles said. He beckoned to the confused boy and bent to whisper, "He's just a Muggle." The boy giggled.

The little girl, younger than her brother, was showing said Auditore her glittering purple costume, face overly joyful. "Don't worry. You'll be the most beautiful _principessa_ in the city," he said, smiling tenderly at her. Their mother called them then, and they scampered off, the little girl's cheeks very red. He then averted his attention to the other ancestor, wagging his eyebrows tauntingly. "Not very good with the _bambini_ , Al?"

The only response he received was a deathly glare.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Desmond clapped hooded Assassin on the shoulder. "Give those to me. I'm buyin'."

"Really?" Ezio brightened, handing his costume over.

"Well, yeah, seeing as I'm the only one with a job." Desmond took it and rolled his eyes dramatically.

Ibn' La'Ahad blinked. "I have one."

"You haven't even started," said bartender reminded him.

The Syrian hesitated, then passed his costume to his descendant as well. "I'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about it," he repeated, smiling. "My treat." _And the next paycheck I get this week, I'm buying them some_ ordinary _clothes of their own instead of lending mine so I won't have to keep washing the same pair over and over again. A real waste of electricity and water. Thank goodness for Dawn to get the job done, though._

"Um...Desmond?"

He broke out his thoughts and looked at Ezio. "Yeah?"

"Where's your costume?"

"Oh, I...uh..." He cleared his throat as the line moved up one person. "I'm not, you know, all for dressing up. Besides, I'm an adult and too grown for them."

Both ancestors did not seem to buying it easily. "We are all adults," they chided together.

"Guys, it's not-"

"Don't worry, Des," Ezio replied with a devious smirk. "I already picked out for you, and you're going to love it." A wink was added after he finished.

Miles groaned apprehensively. _I very much doubt that._

* * *

_Augh_ _, what is taking him so long?_ Ezio sighed impatiently, leaning against the wall both arms crossed over his chest. "You done yet?"

"Just a few more...adjustments!" Desmond called out from the bathroom, straining with something as he did.

Altair was not even paying attention for he was in his own little world in front of a tall mirror, which is unknown how there was one in the first place, admiring himself in the Batman attire. Who would have thought spandex did not go right with men? He was looking good! Even Ezio seemed to think so while he watched the Assassin, eyes scanning up and down his body hungrily. Altair's ears perked up at the sound of a wolf whistle then dramatically turned around slowly enough that his head was the only thing moving like an owl would.

"Nice tights," Auditore commented, smirking with naughty thoughts streaming through his mind.

He blinked and stated bluntly, "I would rather be a highly admired hero than some overrated pirate."

That hit a mark. "Ehi! Pirates can beat a...giant, overgrown bat with anyday!" Ezio remarked, glaring at the man while defending his Jack Sparrow pride...or whatever he called it.

"I think I'm done now," Desmond finally called out from the bathroom.

"About time. Let's see it, then!"

The door creaked open, and Miles stepped out into the open living room in his costume. Entire body clad in a brown fur suit with a burgundy and black-trimmed kimono and sash. Rat ears, snout, whiskers, and a long, white beard with bushy eyebrows complete with a slightly bent up tail at the rear end. A dark, wooden cane served as a walking prop as well as claws being an addition to the hands and bare feet. Through the ajar mouth, you are be able to see the bland look on his face.

"Ahh!" Ezio grinned in mock surprise. "Look who it is! So delightful for you to finally join us!"

"Took you long enough" Altair stated, neither with nor without emotion in his voice, if you could really describe it that way.

"Thank you, Captain and Bat-Obvious," Desmond sighed. "Now, let's go."

" _Aspetta!_ " The Auditore moved to block the young bartender's path when he was about to head towards the front door. "Act like him first."

Miles cast a look saying, 'Are-you-freakin'-serious?' at him.

A wide, teeth-showing grin spread across his light tan features with those brownish-amber eyes forming into round saucers like an impression a kitten would do. "Please?" Oh, he just had to break out the puppy eyes.

Sighing once more, the future Assassin hunched over a bit then cleared his throat and said in a raspy, whisper-like voice while gesturing in the air with his hands, "Ah, at this rate, I could be mistaken for an old sasquatch. Better yet, give me a head wrap, and I'll look like an ewok."

"You sound just like him!" Ezio's face quickly reverted to confusion. "Wait. An e-what?"

Waving a hand dismissively, he continued in said voice, "Some little, ugly bear thing with buck teeth on Star Wars. Never watched that show." He placed both hands on the cane. "Forget about it. Now, if you're done talking, let's go."

"Where are we going first, rat man?" Altair asked with a small hint of sarcasm and a smirk playing on his lips.

Desmond rounded on the Syrian and smacked his shin with the stick. "It's _Master Splinter_ to you. Show some respect to your elders, boy."

He did not look affected by the hit, but clenched his teeth.

Said bartender reached over to dish bowl containing the apartment/car/etc. keys. "Now, my sons, follow me down the staircase, and I will show you."

Auditore da Firenze raised an eyebrow. "Your sons?"

Miles sighed. "That's what Splinter calls the turtles, his sons; therefore, since you two are neither, I still call you that since...you know, you're my ancestors. Now, get your bags and come on before the night ends!"

Both ancestors did not say another word as they were ushered out of the apartment. Locking the door behind him then stashing the keys in the inside pockets of the kimono robe, Desmond a.k.a. Splinter slowly made his way down stairs to the bottom floor where Altair, the Dark Knight, and Pirate Captain Ezio were awaiting him. As soon as the descendant observed the environment, more likely the weather, he groaned.

"Dammit!" he cursed. "It's all over!"

"Why?" asked Altair, glancing at him.

He gestured to the front of them. "Look at that. It's so foggy, we can't see a damn thing!"

Smiling, Ezio wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders then said in the best impersonating voice that he could manage, "There's nothin' to worry about, mate. You and I..." A pause. "He and you..." Another pause. "I and him..." A third. "Him and us..." Final. " _We_ , which is him and I..." He pointed to Altair then himself. "...have the Eagle Vision, remember?"

Desmond, or Splinter, whatever you prefer, gave the young Assassin a disdainful gaze. "You two haven't even used it yet, not even _once_ throughout this whole fanfiction."

"I did, and you just broke down the fourth wall," Ibn-La'Ahad spoke up.

"So? The author is doing whatever comes to mind, and this voice is becoming very difficult and second nature to me, now." Jeeze. Someone seems rather pushy. Maybe because it was their time of the month.

"Speaking of," the Auditore started. "Maybe I should've given you a different character, _si_?"

He sighed with a frown. "Too late for that. Now, come on already and let's get this over with!"

* * *

Later into the next morning, it was still foggy and dark out. The gang were standing under a street lamp with their bags full of candy. And by the way Splinter was hunched over, he was tired more than anything else.

"That was fun," Ezio said, smiling gleefully with a sucker in his mouth. "Never knew Halloween was like this. What do you think, Des?"

A sudden crash made him turn around. Desmond had fallen to the ground in exhaustion face first. The brunette blinked as he stared down at the unmoving man.

"You can't be that tired."

"Apparently, I am," Miles slowly groaned.

Again, he shrugged. "Well, at least _I_ had fun." He cupped his chin and stroke his fake braided beard. "Although, I do not savvy why those girls resisted my charms. No girl could ever resist. It is unusual."

Said rat man's mouth twitched. "If you had noticed the looks they gave you, those Hex Girls could hardly care. The one who flipped you off and gave you that pissed off glare looked like she wanted to burn you."

Ezio raised a brow. "Seriously? I thought she wanted to f-"

"Oh, just shut up," Desmond snapped. "Now, help me up."

The Auditore Assassin did not say anything else but obliged. Once Miles was back on his feet, he noticed something was amiss. Panic rose in his chest almost instantly.

"Altair?" His brown eyes scanned behind said pirate man then the surrounding area. "Altair!" Desmond called out then let out a frustrated sigh. "Where is he?"

Ezio shrugged. "How I'm supposed to know?"

"How could you _not_ know? He was right behind you!"

Before the other could retort back, a shadowy figured leapt from the darkness above and landed, or glided, in the front of them. Auditore da Firenze and Miles let out high-pitched shrieks in fright as said rat man jumped into the Italian's arms out of reflex. The figure stroke an heroic pose of placing his fists on either side of his hips, black cape draped on broad shoulders, and looked to the sky determinedly.

In the most realistic, gruff, and manly impression that could make him win an Oscar for, said person stated, "I...am Batman." Cue whatever-type-of-music-it-is-supposed-to-be in the background.

Desmond sighed in relief as he calmed his heart rate. "Altair, you damn near gave me a heart attack." Once he was let back down to his feet again, he continued with a question. "Where were you?"

Altair turned then simply stated in said voice, "Testing the roofs."

He facepalmed the forehead of the rat headpiece. "I should've guessed."

Something then caught Ezio's eyes, pointing to the Assassin's face. "Is that...lipstick?"

All of the attention were suddenly directed to the Syrian. Upon closer inspection, there were not one, not two, but three separate colors of red, pink, and purple lipstick covering almost the entire bat mask, leaving no spot untouched. A few lip marks were even plastered on and around his neck and the underside of his jaw.

Miles's jaw almost dropped in astonishment. "Well, well. No wonder the Dark Knight was away for some time. Hitting it the ladies, Al?" He grinned suggestively afterwards, but paused when he spotted a piece of paper in the man's gloved hand. "Oh ho! What better way to enjoy the night than to walk away with a phone number. I applaud you, my son."

Wrapping the dark cape to hide his front, Ibn-La'Ahad looked the side with closed eyes. "A knight cares not to tell details." Only did he peek open a hazel eye, careful not to let the smirk appear when he saw Ezio glare at him out of jealousy.

"Hey, Ez, did you get anything special?"

The Auditore would have said, 'no', yet decided against it and thought it was a better to show rather than tell. He held up a hand in the exposed light. "I got a rock..." he stated flatly, head tilted to let the shadow shield his shameful eyes.

He patted the Italian gently on the shoulder. "There, there, my son. Next time, for sure."

A sudden rumble sounded within the fog. The trio became tensed and alerted, alarmed by the noise.

Desmond's eyes scanned around frantically. "What was that noise?"

Another growl came, sounding a bit closer than the previous. Their skin rose with goose bumps as the hairs prickled and stood on end. Although, Altair, as usual, did not look fazed or scared, just curious about the source.

"Perhaps, we should just...go home?" Ezio suggested, staring in the general direction of the noise.

"Yeah. Let's go."

With that decided, the three began walking in the direction of home. But within more than half of a minute, the growl was heard again except really close. So, upon glancing over his shoulder, Ezio noticed a disfigured silhouette in the fog. He could not make out what it was until it walked, or limped, under one of the street lights. An average height man dressed in scrubs and skin of grey, rotting flesh. Both eyes were glazed over of complete white with blood dripping down his holey face. Mouth full of exposed yellow teeth and blackened gums accompanied by missing lips of either being shriveled or torn off. The shirt and pants looked of a light blue color, covered with splotches of blood as the dark crocs dragged across the concrete sidewalk at an odd angle. This man thing had to be one of the greatest, most realistic zombie ever imaginable.

Ezio, never having to have seen anything like this, panicked then bolted down past Altair and Desmond, yelling, " _Piu tardi_!"

"Wait! Ezio!" Desmond shouted, reaching a hand forward in a failed attempt to stop him.

Another eerie groan came. Miles quickly whipped his head around, coming face to face with said zombie, but this time being accompanied with two other following behind soon after. The moment he saw them, his wrist was grabbed by a strong hand with a firm grip before being whisked away, almost stumbling as he ran with Altair leading the way through the thick fog.

After running for half a block, they turned around the corner of a building and stopped. Both ancestor Assassins seemed completely fine, if not a bit edgy, while Desmond was wheezing and almost out of breath. _Damn, I'm so out of shape._

Peeking around the corner of the brick building, the Dark Knight cosplayer stated in his normal voice, "There is no sign of them."

"Desmond, what was that?" the Auditore asked, voice trembling slightly.

Heaving while trying to catch his breath, he replied, "A...zombie, I think."

He shifted. "Do you think we should take them on, then?"

The American gave him an incredulous expression. "You're...joking," he panted.

Said brunette gave a shrug. "Why not? Three against one. It should be fairly easy."

"If you haven't notice, there were...three of them. You missed...the other two...in the back."

"What is a...zom-bee?" Ibn-La'Ahad questioned, glancing at the panting descendant.

He frowned. "Al, ask...later. For now...let's get out of here."

The Syrian resisted from speaking anymore and followed behind.

The trio resumed their slow-paced walking in silence. Passing house one, one of the men glanced over their shoulder. Nothing. Good. There was no sign of them. It continued as the same along the way. Passed house two, glance over shoulder. Still nothing. House three. Nothing. House four? Nope. The fifth? A growl came. Each of three's spine tingled with a shiver upon looking. They were nearing again.

Once again, Altair gripped Desmond's wrist while Ezio grabbed the other then pushed into a fast run. They did not care and was not even thinking of wondering how exactly close those zombies were. All that mattered was them getting home. Halloween was definitely a holiday Ezio was never going to beg about for as long as he lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amico [friend (masc.)]  
> Aspetta! [Wait!]  
> Bambini [children (plural)]  
> Grazie! [Thank you!]  
> Ehi! [Hey!]  
> Mi scusi? [Excuse me?]  
> Mio Dio [My God]  
> Piu tardi! [Later!]  
> Principessa [princess]  
> Si [  
> Ti amo, amico! [I love you, friend!]


	14. Quitting

"Ahhh, good morning, Mr…Mr…oohh…I-Ibean La'Alpaca," the elder man spoke upon hearing the bell above the door.

"Good morning, sir," Altair greeted while nodding, giving him a look at the mispronunciation of his name.

"Ooohhh...such a...such a nice fella. I wish my...my son was like you."

He could not help but to ask. "Your son?"

"Ahh, yes. My son...my bastard son that hosed me down for the day. He ooohh hoses me down the elderly way. Then, sometimes he would...would forget, then I would...aaahhh...look like I was in a mud wrestling match with a cougar." He shook his bald head. "Then, he'd give me a good...a good...hmmm... _smack_ in the mouth every morning and yell, "Drop dead, dad!" and then drive off to work with...with his head up high in...high hierarchy."

 _High hierarchy?_ Altair blinked questionably. What was this old man talking about exactly?

"Yes, indeed. Ahh! I almost forgot. You may call me Mr. Jun." Mr. Jun flinched and zoned out for a minute. "Is ain't June yet or is it?" He redirected back to Altair, who stared in question at him. "Ah, no. We're…we're not open yet, so I hope you're ready for a little tour and to start your training then get to the actual work. It won't be that hard, I promise. Oh...oooh..."

The Syrian nodded and followed the owner for the tour. The place seemed roomy and spacious, let alone, had an customer-friendly atmosphere. A semi-large bar sat on the right side while various tables and booths took up half of the floor with some sort of stage occupying the other half. Altair wondered how an elderly man owned such a business. Everything about this place screamed 'foreign' to him. Well, of course. He was not even part of the futuristic generation, so…

Strolling up to the bar, molten orbs of gold came in contact with a set of blue ones. A blond male, or female, with short hair cut in a fashionable style and make-up done to their fair complexion of their features. An inch or so shorter in height, arched brows, long dark eyelashes, sharp nose, and thin, pink lips. Said Assassin had no idea what to think of this…person.

Mr. Jun noticed his silence a second afterwards. "Oh! Yes. I'd like for you to meet Precise. He will be your former coworker."

… _He?_

The so called Precise let a wide grin spread on his face. "Mmm mm! Tall, dark, and handsome," came his high-pitched, shrilling tone as he eyeballed said man. "You're quite the looker, hon. What's your name?"

One of Altair's eyes invisibly twitched yet kept his expression unreadable. Many questions and concerns started running through his head. It was not about working here in this environment, but mainly about Precise. Speaking of, what kind of mother would name their child after an adjective?

For maybe what felt like half an hour, he answered lowly, "Altair."

"Al-ta-ir." The blond let the name sink in slowly for a moment. He then leaned forward across the counter until he was within nose length of the Eagle Assassin with a sultry look in his azure orbs. "It suits for a dashing stud like you."

Ibn-La'Ahad reeled back slightly, a hint of uneasiness and disgust evident on his hooded face. The close contact of this…he, she, it, or whatever was making him feel awkwardly uncomfortable, if that makes any sense.

Mr. Jun, oblivious to the flirting male's action, smiled. "Ahh…ooohh…augh! See? You two are already getting along. Oh, if and only _if_ my son and I could have that type of bond. Hmm, if I had my way, I would teach him a respectful lesson about his elders. But even…even if I did, he would find ways to humiliate me. He would leave me lost in the clothes aisle to go chase after those young heifers, suck the gas from my car then slash the…the tires to leave me stuck in the middle of a highway during rush hour, and…and even filed a lawsuit or restraining order from my own home, making me weep for my Sealy Posturepedic while having nightmares about…about him beating me in the basement while staring at the night sky. My face…riddled with bruises, looking like an old tree stump coming out of an Irish…ceiling with the imprints of casino chips on my old, wrinkly flesh…taunting me 'bout all the money I'll never see. All of this for just being _me_. Oooh, it's terrible. My life is a wash of pain and pestilence. Why won't God just let me _die_?!"

He had to be mentally unstable or traumatized because Altair was partially confused about what the hell Mr. Jun was rambling about. Possibly his past life. Old memories tend to take its toll on the older people.

Said elder broke from his nostalgic moment. "Uh…Pepper, why don't he show Alfalfa there the ropes and everything else. I…I need to go into my office and…nap before my cataracts start jumping."

Precise never let up that smirk from earlier. "Okay, June bug," he replied, eyes never moving from the bright amber ones.

"Augh! It's Jun!" the old man shouted from somewhere in the back.

"So." His attention was averted back to the Syrian. "You seeing anyone? A lover? A friend with benefits, perhaps?"

Altair did not like where this way going and, as quick as a flick, his demeanor changed. "Mind your own and stay out of mine," he stated with venom.

The blond back away, the smirk dropping from his face as he got the clear message of the brunette not wanting anyone prying on his person. He gave a small pout. "Such a shame."

The hooded Master Assassin sighed. _Allah, let this day be over and done with quickly._

* * *

Altair casually entered the apartment complex, careful not to let the door slam. He lazily yet silently, which only someone like him could master, dragged his boots across the carpet floor. Today felt longer than he actually thought it would. No, he was not tired. He simply wanted to come back home, especially from that old man and the he-she. The geezer was weirder than expected but not any stranger than Precise, though. Even thinking of _his_ name made him feel an unexplainable yet none too pleasant feeling in his chest.

When he pushed past Desmond greeting him with a "Hey. How'd it go?", he all but grunted and continued on his way to his and Ezio's room. Altair did not care for anything at the moment, and luckily for him, Ezio was nowhere in sight. So, carelessly, he kicked off his heavy boots then collapsed onto the bed, his head landing on the pillow perfectly. How, we do not even know how he could pull that off. He was enigmatic.

Desmond poked his head in to see the ancestor lying down. He opened his mouth, but closed it back. He was about to ask said man about his day and the usual, however, that could wait. _Let the man rest since he must have had a hard day._

As he pulled back then proceeded to quietly shutting the door and turning to leave, he was stopped by a voice calling out to him. "Desmond."

He did not move yet listened. "Yeah?"

"…I quit."

The brunette eyes widened. "Wha...?"

Another response came of a glass shattering against a hard surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amico [friend (masc.)]  
> Aspetta! [Wait!]  
> Bambini [children (plural)]  
> Grazie! [Thank you!]  
> Ehi! [Hey!]  
> Mi scusi? [Excuse me?]  
> Mio Dio [My God]  
> Piu tardi! [Later!]  
> Principessa [princess]  
> Si [  
> Ti amo, amico! [I love you, friend!]


	15. Fear Resolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Slash/Smut/Yaoi
> 
> Water was always a problem with a certain Assassin.

"For the last time, nothing bad will happen to you, so would you get in?”

“No.”

“Come on.  At least give it a little try.”

“Hn.”

“It won’t hurt, amico.  We promise.”

“…”

Desmond sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation; additionally, to distract himself from staring at the half naked Syrian, who looked none too pleased at the current situation with both arms crossed.  They were getting nowhere with this.

His eyes looked pleadingly at the older man.  “Al, please…”

Altair said nothing, only directed his gaze to an interesting spot of the tile wall with both of his arms crossed over his sculpted chest.  Miles could almost feel himself drooling over the eight hundred plus year old Assassin with those toned muscles of his along those battle scars adorning his body, even the ones venturing southward pass the white towel wrapped his waist.  The more said American stared, the more oncoming suggestive thoughts were materializing in his mind.  But he could not help thinking that the Syrian, by the appearance, looked a little more robust than his Italian ancestor.  At this, the dark-eyed bartender tried to ignore the sensation creeping up his inner thighs.  The very last thing he will ever need is a hard-on right now, and this was not the time to develop one.  Desmond swallowed and closed his eyes.  _No, not now.  Keep it together, Des._

With an exhale, Ezio threw his hands exasperatedly in the air.  “I give up.”  Then, he exited out the room without a moment’s pause.  
Now, it was only Altair and an ever-slowly-growing-impatient Desmond.

Again, another sigh.  “Look, I know you’re scared, but if you don’t conquer your fear, then I have no idea what to do with you.”  
Ibn-La’Ahad neither budge from his current spot nor avert his attention from the wall.  Unbeknownst to his descendant, he was listening and eying him out the corner of his amber orbs.

Miles’s eyebrow twitched, an indication of a headache emerging.  Never had he ever had dealt with such a difficult, selfish man.  In a way he was like a cat, hard to train and never does what he is being told.  Well, Altair was never one who likes being told what to do by others, especially those he considered lower than him, related or not.

Desmond was about to hopelessly give up until a sudden idea occurred to him.  His dark-brown eyes switched over to the quiet Syrian and pondered with a thoughtful expression.  It could work, but then again, he was not so sure of himself that it would, knowing how fully well things would turn out if all else fails.  A little confidence kicked in, making Miles a tiny bit of worry ease down inside his chest.  _Maybe._   He inhaled then exhaled to calm his nervous not before saying a silent prayer.  _Alright.  Here it goes._

The immobile Assassin’s head went to the side slightly at the sound of footsteps approaching him.  He still did not move, however, tensed as a pair of hands slithered their way to his waist from behind while a warm body pressed itself up against him.

A pair of lips placed themselves close to his ear and whispered slowly, “Why so difficult?”

Altair tried not to shiver or show any signs of he was being affected by the descendant’s husky tone.  He wondered what made the young man become so bold all of sudden.  Although, he gave him a little credit for trying.

An uncharacteristic gasp slipped from his scarred lips when Desmond softly licked his earlobe.  Then, those same lips of Miles’s began a journey down the side of the Master Assassin’s neck and stopping to his bare shoulder then vice versa.  Altair swallowed back a groan, closing his eyes while his jaws clenching together.  No, he refused to give into the small pleasure, all the while, cursing himself in Arabic for allowing his body senses to betray him.  Damn them!

Gaining more confidence in his actions, Desmond brought the Assassin’s body more into his so that their bodies were pressed almost tightly, leaving no room between them.  Altair felt a tingle at the contact of the other’s crotch pushing against his ass.  His body was becoming excited against his own will, much to his disappointment.  The Syrian surely was not going to admit to liking what he was getting.  How much longer before he caves into what was happening?

Desmond was surprise to say the least at how his actions were progressing, but it was far from over.  He placed a light kiss in the crook of the older man’s neck then proceeded to bite down on the spot.  Altair’s chest thrust upward, biting his bottom lip as a tiny yet audible groan rumbled in his throat.  This teasing was becoming too much, and it had to stop this instant.  However, a part of him still desired for more.

“Altair…” Miles whispered, his warm breath causing visible goose bumps to appear on said Assassin’s delicate, bronze skin as he occupied his hands by trailing slowly up past the scrumptious set of abs to the toned chest and gently pinching the older man’s sensitive nipple.  “Moan for me.”

Altair’s supple lips parted to emit an airy moan when his descendant’s switch to the opposite side of his neck and bit down, pleasure rippling down to his lower regions.  A bulging tent made itself known in the front of the ancestor’s white towel as his knees began to feel shaky.  “ _Y-Yelan_ …!” the Syrian stammered lowly, husky and foreign to the silent surroundings yet satisfyingly sexy.

Desmond ceased his actions to look at him.  “Do you want to stop?”

Ibn-La’Ahad swallowed but did not respond immediately.  Instead, he took a second for his heart rate to slow and closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his jaw.  No matter how much he want to it all to stop, his body and the way it was now affected was betraying him like a backstabber.  A part of him wanted to continue this, but it had to be quick and done with.  The mere thought of any more of this teasing foreplay was making him increasingly impatient.  This had to end before he goes insane!

Altair uncharacteristically hesitated for a second.  “No, don’t…p-pl…please…”

Desmond’s brows raised an inch or so at how pleadingly the Master Assassin sounded.  So, it would not hurt to have some fun, right?  “Please, what?”  His hand wandered inside the towel securing the other’s waist and teasingly rubbed the area above the now erect member.

The Son of None bit his bottom lip to prevent himself from making any noise, but failed to do so when the familiar sound of a whimper echoed in his throat.  That sign was all it took for Desmond to know what he truly wanted him to do.

Altair felt himself being slowly guided to turn around to face his descendant then being backed up against the tiled wall.  Both men were silent as they took a moment to stare into each other’s eyes.  Almond-shaped orbs of shimmering hazel meet with dazed pools of dark, rich chocolate, both neither wavering nor blinking.  It was truly a moment that they wish could last for an eternity.  Was this one out of many reasons Desmond found the 12th Century Assassin so utterly attractive?  Or was there more to it than his masculine sex appeal?  _Dangerously arousing_ , Miles thought.

Ever so slightly, Desmond inched forward in hesitation until his lips softly brushed the elder ancestor’s.  He stopped suddenly.  _Is this really a good time to be doing this?  God forbid Ezio walking right in and seeing us in this position, possibly wanting to join._   He partially opened his eyes.  _But…I don’t want to end this and be awkward._ An inward sigh. _Flow with it, Des._

Altair’s watch Desmond hesitantly lean forward then stopped to where their lips were lightly touching.  Now, he started to wonder.  With all of that teasing earlier, he was definitely growing hot in arousal from top to bottom, so why stop here.  If Miles wanted to kiss him, he would have done it by this time instead of stalling.  Said Assassin knew the young American was not the type to start things like this, only to leave him hanging in this.  Somewhere deep down, Ibn-La’Ahd was growing a bit impatient.  If this continues, he would have no choice but to take the reins and be in control.

Miles calmly reached up with cold, clammy hands to cup each side of Altair’s face.  He then filled small empty space between and finally pressed his lips to the other’s warm lips.  He was trying not to show it, but he was _extremely_ nervous. Neither men’s lips moved nor budged.  Figuring he just made a horrible move and that Altair would push him away, leave, and not talk to him again, he pulled away after a second or two.  His cheeks burned in embarrassment.  For what, though?  This was not their first time, they kissed, so why was he feeling this way?  Maybe for the fact that Desmond was not or seen as the type who would make the first move.  It made him feel like a girl, gullible and stupid even.

However, the part where he thought about making that terrible move on the Master Assassin proved where he was wrong.

Altair’s upper lip twitched while a low growl reverberated in his throat.  “My patience is wearing,” he seethed quietly, voice deep and filled with an unidentified emotion.  “Finish what you have started.”  Those set of delicate eyes set themselves ajar.  “Or… _I_ will.”

An excited shiver passed through Desmond. If it was at least one thing, he loved hearing how dazzled the ancestor sounded.  He averted his sight upward to stare at the Syrian Assassin.  _He’s right, Des.  Finish what you started.  No hesitation._   And, without further ado, he leaned back in and kissed him head on.  Altair did not retreat and sighed contently, thanking Allah for the agonizing wait.

An unknown feeling then welled up inside the two of them as the moment grew suddenly intense.  Two tough-skinned hands wrapped around Miles’s head to pull him in closer, deepening the kiss, the arousal between both men steadily growing hotter.  Slowly moving his hand, said descendant trailed his fingers down Altair’s jaw, tenderly gliding across his chiseled chest, stopping to trace every scar he came in contact with.  This earned a few groans coming from the Arabian as two fingers probed and flicked his harden nipple, causing them to harden from excitement.  The sharp gasp accompanied by a whimpering moan was pleasing music to Desmond’s ears.

Ibn-La’Ahad was beginning to feel the need and lustful desire rise within his core as he poured out every restrained emotion into the steamy make out, tongue running along Miles’s bottom lip for permission of entrance.  Said American did not refuse and willingly opened his mouth in submission, in which the Syrian groaned approvingly to.  Altair pushed his tongue into his warm mouth and explored as he pleased.  The fleshy organ made sure to never miss a spot or crevice it could find and/or reach within its path, heavy sighs emitting from both ancestor and descendant in complete satisfaction.  All was intimately pleasing, both wishing to continue this steaming makeout forever without any interruptions, even if one of them was the all-knowing Italian.

Said bartender continued to venture downward, brushing along the scrumptious set of toned abs and ending above the waistline.  A bony finger traced a long scar near the abdomen to the inside of the white towel, earning a buck of the hips and a shuddering moan.  And with their bulging erections grinding against one another through the Altair’s towel and Desmond’s boxers, it made everything seem desiring with the urge for more.  Anything to get the ancestor aroused.  

After a long while, they eventually pulled apart, both breathless.  Desmond then grasped the Eagle’s wrists and placed them at his sides.  Altair eyed him questioningly and opened his mouth speak, but was quickly stopped by a finger pressed on his scarred lips.  Instead of arguing back, he kept silent.

Miles guided him over to the nearby sink and whispered, “Wait.”

The Son of None hid a small smirk at the young man’s actions, quietly enjoying everything that was occurring as Miles turned to shut and lock the bathroom door to ensure their privacy.  Private and kinky, just how he liked it.

When said descendant averted back to the Syrian, he pressed against Altair’s hip to grind their erections together.  The Assassin hissed in bliss, feeling his knees buckle slightly underneath while having to lean back to retain his support.  Desmond proceeded to strip himself of his clothing, watching those same predatory amber orbs eye his body hungrily.  He lightly smiled, not feeling shy than he was before and lightly pecked the ancestor’s lips.  This time, he moved his kisses from the older man’s lips to his neck, kissing and gently biting.  The elder let out a small moan, which he took as a message to continue.

Desmond kissed his way further down along his collarbone until he reached Ibn-La’Ahad’s muscled chest.  He began softly kissing and licking the hardened nipples as the Syrian sighed in bliss.  His teeth lightly grasped his nipples as he flicked his tongue back and forth, switching to tend the other in the similar manner, listening to Altair’s soft whimpers.  It sounded pleasing and such a turn on to witness.

Miles sensed all of the teasing was wasting a little too much time, so he took it up a notch.  He gave the ancestor a slap on his firm ass, Altair quietly gasping at the sudden sharp pain with slightly widened eyes.  
“Up,” Desmond commanded, voice seductively low.

Altair was not one to like being told what to do, but at this time, he did not care and obliged by lifting him up onto the edge of the sink.  Desmond pecked his scarred his lips for being obedient.  He proceeded his way southward of trailing feathery kisses down his torso, tracing scars of different lengths with his hot tongue.  The Syrian held onto the sink’s ledge and leaned back until his head and back was against the mirror to give his descendant more space to explore.  Working pass the beautifully toned abs, Miles slowly peeled open the towel around the older man’s waist, hearing said Assassin sigh in relief when his erect cock was set free from its prison.  Said American spread the man’s legs apart, kneeled on his knees, and moved himself closer between them.  He felt a tingling sensation in his own groin and licked his lips.  _Gorgeously perfect._

Desmond placed his lips on Altair’s right leg, slowly kissing his way up his thigh. Said Eagle could feel himself tingling, his hard member twitching. His lips wandered closer, now inches from his erection with Ibn-La’Ahad closing his eyes, waiting for what would come next.

Two fingers were presented in front of Altair, who immediately caught on what he had to do.  He took the appendages into his warm mouth then sucked on them like some wanton slut would for their master.  Once lathered in saliva, Desmond removed his soaked fingers from his mouth.  The Syrian felt those fingers beginning to slide up his inner thighs slowly, causing his leg to flinch at the slight tickle on his tanned skin. Said descendant’s reached upward then rubbed in circles on the outside of his sphincter, all the while, running his tongue northward then southward from the Arabian’s genitals up the shaft to the head and vice versa.

Altair was about to tell his descendant to stop teasing him when he felt his cock being engulfed into a hot mouth and two fingers slipping into his hole, pushing deep inside of him.  His muscles tightened, wrapping around Desmond’s two fingers as he began sliding them in and out.  He continued to use his fingers to massage the walls of while steadily tending to the member in his mouth at a workable pace and listening to the aroused Syrian’s grunts and groans as sweat formed on his brow.  It felt too utterly good, and for once, never felt so pleasing to being the passive one.

Suddenly, Desmond added a third finger while watching Altair’s reaction as he arched his back, moaning even louder with a mixture of pain.  He lifted his legs higher onto the sink’s edge then reached down, grabbed the American descendant’s head and pushed him down on more to make the young man take all of him in his mouth fully.  Who cares if his legs were searing in pain for the lack of flexibility.  Pain was never going to stop him from enjoying this.  Miles sucked harder and started to ram his fingers inside of him even faster now and shoving them all the way in. The Assassin could feel his legs trembling as his rear muscles tightened more.  He could feel it coming and half-shouted, half-groaned as he came, semen erupting into the descendant’s vacant mouth.

Miles took a moment to gather the semen spilling to his awaiting mouth before moving off to swallowing the bittersweet seed completely.  Removing his fingers, he stood up, and looked at his ancestor lying there on the sink.  Altair Ibn-La’Ahad was breathing heavily with his heart pounding, but they were not done yet.  The best part had yet to come.  Desmond had to be inside him, to feel his hard erection sliding in his ass until he climax.  Oh, he will make sure they both will enjoy it to the fullest.

He grabbed the Eagle’s legs and pulled him towards him, almost off of the sink.  Desmond kissed him some more, feeling his soft lips against his and pulled away.  Altair made a sound in his throat, licking his lips and throwing his head back a little, his cock partially hard from being fingered earlier.  This is what he had been wanting for so long, and now it was right in front of him, his Assassin lying there naked.

Desmond moved closer to him, taking the head of his hard member and rubbing it along the edge of his hole, teasing his.  “Do you want this inside you, Altair?”

Altair groaned lovingly as he squirmed, giving him eye contact while biting his bottom lip, nodding, then spreading his legs further apart in response.

Slowly, he pushed his hard member into Altair’s awaiting hole.  It felt tight, and Desmond had to try to prevent himself from climaxing right then and there.  But after a minute, he delved further inside.  His hands moved to the Eagle’s hips, grasping his sexy waist, and began sliding his in and out of him with one hand stroking the Syrian’s lonely member with his thrusts.  Every time he steadily thrust in, he pulled him towards him, forcing it even deeper inside of him.

As he continued thrusting his inside him, Altair could feel it growing even bigger, filling his ass. The sink shook as Desmond continued, listening to lustful moans every time he thrust back in the Assassin, pushing every inch of his hard member inside his ancestor’s ass.  Miles loved watching how submissive and tantalizing the Master Assassin looked.  The Syrian tried grabbing onto the sink to give him some kind of support as Miles continued ramming his member deep inside of him.  He did not stop or slow down but only went faster with even more force.  Desmond loved and reveled in being dominant.

Time went by as the Eagle’s moans grew louder, him being stroked and fucked in his tight ass by his future descendant, all the while, clenching harshly on the sink’s surface.  He could feel it pulsing inside of her, filling him entirely and loving every moment, every thrust, every feeling.  Desmond gritted his teeth as he was filled with a sudden burst of energy, ramming his cock relentlessly inside of the Eagle Assassin as hard as he could. The sink rocked back and forth as Altair blindly screamed in pleasure at the cock hitting his prostate, making him see stars.  It felt _oh_ so wonderful.

Altair’s masculine body was heating up as his erection pulsated.  Suddenly, he felt himself getting lightheaded as a spasm passed through him in intense pleasure, not withdrawing what flowed out his mouth.  “ _Na’am_ … _N-Na’am_ …!  D-Des…mond!”

Hearing him shout in his native tongue caused Miles to climax faster.  “Al…God…!  A-Al…ta…ir!”

Simultaneously, they both climaxed, their vocal cords reaching their maximum keynote.  Altair’s hips bucked until he semen spilled and painting the young American’s lower torso; additionally, feeling Miles’s essence flowing inside of his rear and moaning lowly as he did.  Desmond slowly pulled his member out of him, and then collapsed to the floor.  The room soon fell silent with chests heaving as both men panted for air.

A second or two later, Ibn-La’Ahad was the first to get up, only having to hold onto the sink for support because of his wobbly legs.  He then averted his attention downward and genuinely smiled.  Desmond had passed out, mainly from exhaustion, and fell straight to sleep.  With all that he had done, the Assassin could not blame him.  He then switched his view over to the bath tube filled with water.  _I will work on my phobia later.  One day, but not today._

Altair kneeled onto a knee then carefully scooped the sleeping man into his arms.  Skillfully unlocking the door, he exited the bathroom and carried Desmond into his own bedroom.  With silent steps and thanking Allah that Ezio was nowhere at the time, he gently placed him in bed in his usual resting spot.  The Eagle clicked the lamp off on the bed stand and rounded to the other side, slipping in unknowingly next to his descendant.

As soon as he did, Desmond rolled to his side in his sleep and curled himself up against the Syrian’s body, seeking his body warmth.  Altair stared at him before smiling softly again.  He pulled the covers up on both of them up to their shoulders then finally settled down, wrapping his strong arms around Miles’s waist and placing a tender kiss to his forehead.  Tonight, he will sleep well and hope for a better morning.  Additionally, he hoped neither the people in the apartments nor Ezio heard them in the bathroom attending their private desires.  If given the chance, the Auditore would surely run it to the ground.

 

// <![CDATA[  
var __chd__ = {'aid':11079,'chaid':'www_objectify_ca'};(function() { var c = document.createElement('script'); c.type = 'text/javascript'; c.async = true;c.src = ( 'https:' == document.location.protocol ? 'https://z': 'http://p') + '.chango.com/static/c.js'; var s = document.getElementsByTagName('script')[0];s.parentNode.insertBefore(c, s);})();  
// ]]>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Arabic [Meaning]*  
> Na’am! [Yes!]  
> Y-Yelan…! [D-Dammit…!]
> 
> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amico [friend (masculine)]


	16. A Fool to be Fooled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... Those types of guys...

Orbs of chocolate gold blinked sleepily at the calendar on the wall.  Ezio's stood motionlessly like a statue in his boxers with a blank expression on his features.  No sound came from him, only the steady pants of his breathing.  It was as if he glued to his spot.

What seemed like ten minutes past by did he tilt his head to the side and blinked.  "Desmond?" Ezio finally spoke, his tone slightly hoarse and low from not being fully awake yet.

Desmond, who busied himself typing on his laptop while eating a small breakfast consisting of two Apple Cream Danish toaster strudels and a glass of milk, never looked up yet answered,

"Yeah?"

"What is today?"

He bit into the pastry delight.  "Monday, April 1st."

Again, the young _assassino_ was quiet, which was uncharacteristic since he was almost always the first one up early in morning and the loudest.  Usually, Altair would beat him to it and was seen doing nothing but staring out the window in a brooding fashion with both arms crossed.  He would have that beaked hood of his shielding his eyes and go off into his own little world.  Ezio hated seeing the man sitting there like that and tried countless of times to get him involved in doing things together, mostly to socialize with him and others that did not hint anything about sex.  The responses received, however, was either a death glare, an uninterested grunt, or the silent treatment Altair was known for, completely ignoring the Auditore like he never existed or too deep in his thoughts.  It was a mystery of what, though, yet the Italian could tell that he was longing for something, possibly the chance to get out instead of being cooped up inside.  It did him no good, especially for constantly active Assassins.  If they stayed inside for too long, they would surely become impatiently restless and go haywire crazy.

But then again, there actually were other times Ezio would try to throw out suggestive hints of what they could do while Desmond's presence was absent.  Some of his choices ranged from offering soothing massages to playful bed wrestling to cuddling together under the covers to simple kissing dares and whispering sweet nothings to one another.  Altair easily disregarded all of them, scoffing with a displeased look on the face.  Whenever that disappointed him, the brown-haired Auditore just could not resist and would do something drastically stupid.  He would sneak up behind the older man, cautiously move the hood aside then either peck the side of his lips, nip at his neck, or wetly lick his cheek then dodge a fist to the face, the sharp point of a hidden blade, or be chased by an angry, annoyed Eagle.  Ezio even pushed past the limit of literally embracing said Syrian in a unexpected hug, only to be locked in Altair's death grip by the neck or in a air-restricting headlock, apologizing and pleading for his life.  If you ever ask, he was like a child in a grown man's body.

It took a mere second when realization hit and Ezio's eyes slimmed as his trademark smirk stretched across his scarred lips.  A deep chuckle reverberated in his throat while his features contorted into a sinister expression, one that people get when an idea spark in their mind.  This look he gave to no one in particular could make a person's skin crawl or a woman to swoon to his wicked sexiness.  He solemnly swore he was up to no good.

* * *

Quiet breaths exhaled through Altair's slightly parted lips with the visible rise and fall of his stomach.  His hooded head was turned to the side, silent snores being heard every second or two as one hand was draped across his exposed torso with the other hung lifelessly over the edge of the bed.  The sheets that previously covered him were now messingly splayed around his middle with one of his foot poking out from the bottom end.  It was very rare to see the elder Assassin in such a heap, but no doubt, if one had to voice their opinion, they would find his state adorable.

An unknown presense crept into the room without making a sound.  The small click of the door sounded yet Altair never budged from his spot, only a finger twitched.  Waiting for a moment or two, the shadowed figure crept closer to the sleeping Arabian with quiet footsteps.  In the next procedure, said figure cautiously stepped onto the bed with their bare feet, all the while, watching for said ancestor's movement before climbing on with their hands clinging onto the headboard for balance.  Like a snail, the being shimmied over to Ibn-La'Ahad's immobile form until they were within inches above him.  A wide smirk stretched across their face, bright teeth exposed.  What were they planning?

Altair shifted slightly, turning his head upward and shuffling his body then falling motionless again.  A tickle came on his nose, making him twitch and wiggle it to rid of the pest.  After a second past, the tickle returned, only it felt more than just a simple bug.  Said Syrian groaned lowly, a small scowl adorning his features and turned his head to the side.  It was gone, but then came back, settling slightly on the side of his cheek.  It was no mere tickle anymore, but heavier and...warmer?  This wokened the ancestor a little bit.  Exactly what the hell was it?  _Wait a while longer and see._

No longer asleep, Altair kept his eyes closed, pretending like he went back to sleep.  Again and again, the object kept repeating its actions and even went as far as sliding across his scarred lips, which he kept shut from wanting to spit.  Why did it feel scaley?  Was someone waving a piece of chicken in his face?  By the scent, it was neither tantilizing nor reeking yet...musky.  _What...?_

Finally having enough, Altair decided to investigate the source.  Hazel orbs widened into saucers upon opening.  Obscuring his view was Ezio grinning like a Cheshire while repeatingly crouching above his head with his manhood out except only the younger Assassin's balls were touching his forehead.

The Auditore grinned, if possible, wider in a taunting manner.  "Ha ha!  I teabag you while you're sleeping, amico!  Ha ha!"

 _Teabag...me?_   The Son of None had confusion written all over his hooded face.  He knew what a teabag is, but he had never heard it used in a sentence such as this before.  It made him experience a form of stupidity and slowness, much to his disliking.  However, it was normal for a guy like him because he was still getting used to the modern era and their futuristic terms.  So, it was fine.

Breaking out of the trance, Altair's brows creased.  In a split second, his hand immediately shot up and sucker punched said Italian in his private jewels.  Ezio released a yelp of agony none has ever heard as he was suddenly thrown onto his back.  He was then straddled at the waist, feeling a heavy weight push down on his legs to prevent movement before being grasped in a vice-like grip by the displeased Assassin lingering over his form.  The Auditore almost screamed, hands scrambling around to find something to hold on to as his teeth grinded together.  Hisses and groans vibrated in his throat as the pain in his groin was incredibly unbearable.  Any guy would hate to have this happen to him, especially by an upset killer.

Lips in a ultra thin line, Altair leaned down to the younger ancestor's ear and whispered, "Who is the fool now?"  His voice was deeply dark, developing a sudden freezing chill in the air some may find intimidating.

A hiss-like whimper of, " _M...merda...!_ " slipped past Auditore da Firenze's lips as the hand constricting his cock tightened, causing him to arch his back and stiffened his body with his eyes tightly shut and mouth open in a silent scream.  Poor Ezio.  Always the one to do such selfish acts in order to get himself into some kind of trouble.  But this one had to be the most painful one he has ever done by far.  And by the looks of it, he will not being bearing any children anytime soon for sure.  Not at this rate, he will.

Desmond, witnessing the entire scene, burst into loud hysterics, tears forming at the edges of his eyes while clutching his stomach.  He would never forget this day.

_Best April's Fool's ever._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amico [friend]  
> Assassino [assassin]  
> M...merda...! [S...shit...!]


	17. Creamy Delight

Desmond tiredly trudged, more likely dragged his feet up the steps of the building. The bar's business was rather slow, but that was because it was the daylight hours. He still had to go back for night shift, which had longer hours and more people bustling in not just for the drinks, but also for the band that will be performing for the night with some of the alcoholic beverages given half-priced discounts. He knew it was going to be an extremely long, busy night. But he was not complaining. More hours means more cash in his pocket. So, it was all good.

Lazily dragging his feet through his apartment door then locking it behind him, Desmond sighed. _All I want now is a sub and some chips. Been cravin' for one. Maybe I should turn back and go get one._ He tossed the keychain of keys into the bowl on the stand next to the door then proceeded on his way. As Miles went on his way, he heard the familiar voices of both ancestor Assassins.

"You taste first," Altair spoke, the accented tone sounding almost flat and empty. 

"Why is it always me?" the other whined, obviously belonging to Ezio since that is what he mainly do.

"In case you get poisoned."

"So, you would not be concerned if that happened to me?"

"No."

"Glad you care... _stronzo_."

Desmond's eyebrow rose. _What are they up to now?_

"It's rich, sweet...and oh so creamy. I like it." A pause. "You want a sample, _si_?"

"No."

"Why not, _amico_? A simple lick would not hurt. Here, I'll hold it for you."

"I will not."

Miles's eyes widened when a suggestive thought came to mind. _Are they at it again...in my kitchen?!_

"Come on! Just one little lick."

"No."

Desmond could picture Ezio giving Altair big puppy eyes. "Pretty please?"

"Stop making that face."

"I will if you taste. One lick."

The quiet bartender blinked. _A lick? Of what?_ His expression went sour. _No...don't tell..._

He heard the Syrian sigh before it went to complete silence. After a brief moment, the sound of lips smacking came along with a hum of approval.

"Delicious, no?"

"It is strange unlike any I have taste yet...it is quite enjoyable."

Ezio made a grunt in his throat as if to agree. His tone lowered, becoming almost inaudible to the quiet apartment. "But I know to make it even _more_ enjoyable."

Miles's face scrunched a bit as he strained his ears to hear what else was about to be said. However, nothing came. He opened his mouth but closed it. He hesistated then opened his mouth a second time, but closed it again. Desmond kept repeating this action until he realized how much of idiot he must be looking like. A part of him was very curious while another part wanted to stop whatever they were doing. He knew that if the Italian Assassin was involved in any sort of shenanigan, nothing good would come out of it. And leaving Altair and Ezio alone together had random outcomes, but the Arabian ancestor was not too stupid to get into any of the younger ancestor's 'childish' business. With some persuasion and reassurance, he ends up doing whatever the Auditore wanted him do. How is the main question.

Just when Desmond was about to call out to the two, he was interrupted by a sudden groan. He froze and listened closely. A thud followed by an airy moan came. Now, he knew and only one thought was in mind.

Miles shook his head and sighed. _Fan-freakin'-tastic._

Dragging himself further, Desmond appeared around the corner to the walk-in kitchen then stopped at a distance from the occupied Assassins. Ezio had Altair pushed against the counter while their mouths were in a hot makeout, his hands busying themselves under the older man's tank top. Ibn-La'Ahad had the younger man's waist in a firm hold as their bodies were molded tightly against each other, hips gyrating in circles for a pleasurable friction.

Desmond shifted onto his other leg, crossing both arms before clearing his throat loud enough for them to hear. Almost instantly, the Eagles broke apart and turned to their descendant like they were caught red-handed. Auditore da Firenze smiled sheepishly as the Son of None cleared his throat, directing his gaze elsewhere.

"You guys having fun, I see," the American simply stated then scowled. "And eating _my_ Yoplait."

"We were," Ezio admitted then smirked. "But...adding a third would be even better."

"N-No! No. Um..." His dark eyes quickly shifted about. "As tempting as it sounds, I'll...I'll have to pass. Gotta work night shift later. You two...keep doing whatcha doing." He left it at that then turned to leave, wanting to hide the blush on his face and the slightly growing arousal in his pants of the intimate thoughts of them running in his mind. It was a lame yet true excuse, and he would have liked to engaged into another 'fun activity', but he was not feeling it for today.

The Auditore pouted a bit by the rejection while Altair only kept silent, not sure of what to say. A short second later, he sighed then cast a menacing glare at the young Italian before him.

Ezio noticed and gave a questioning look. "What?"

The Syrian all but circled around the brunette exit the kitchen area. He was a bit upset and disappointed at the Auditore for one: wasting his time and two: for leaving him slightly hot down in his lower regions at such an ungodly time. All Altair wanted right now was a cold shower with no source of heat whatsoever.

Said Italian's shoulders slackened as he let a disgruntled grunt and gazed up at the ceiling. _Good job,_ idiota.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amico [friend (masculine)]  
> Idiota [idiot]  
> Stronzo [asshole]


	18. Awkward Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Precious is starting to grow uncomfortably attached. Is that a good or bad thing?

" _Amico_ , why are we not taking the...um...car again?

“Because, Ezio, I need to pick up a few things and drop these bills off before tomorrow. The post office is only three blocks around the corner on Davis Ave. I walk there all the time, man. No biggie,” Desmond assured, checking over the sealed envelops once more before placing them in his strap bag.

“I could have done that,” Auditore stated, trying to sound helpful. “You need but to ask.”

Miles looked at him over his shoulder, nervously laughing. “That's okay.”

He arched a brow. “Don't you trust me?”

“Oh, yeah! I trust you.” Desmond gave an overly bright grin, clearly fake as day. _Not as far as I can throw him._

Ezio just gazed at him, unconvinced by his descendant.

Miles turned back to the front and sighed inaudibly with closed eyes. As he did so, he collided into something hard. The force caused him to stumble as the object let out a surprised screech similar to a little girl followed by a gasp. Desmond would have fallen to the ground if Altair and Ezio had not have caught him by the arms. He straightened himself up to his feet, feeling a bit of anger rise within him.

“Hey! Watch where you-!” Desmond raged but stopped when he noticed the person he bumped into.

It was a man, or at least that was what he thought. Long, blond hair with bangs hovering over his left crystal blue eye. Fashionably dressed in the latest trend for a casual day with flip flops as footwear. But the one item that caught their attention was the cheetah-printed hand purse tucked under the stranger's arm. Desmond imaginably sweatdropped. The purse was a dead giveaway that the man was, indeed, gay. Things surely could not get anymore interesting than this...

His attention was cut short when Miles heard the stranger gasped and squealed, “Al-tah-ir~!”

Almost in an instant flash, the blond-haired brushed past said American and Italian then tackled Altair into an unexpected embrace. Ibn-La A'had grunted upon being caught off guard, eyes widening slightly underneath his hood.

The blond then grasped him by his face and placed a kiss on each cheek. “It's been a while since I last seen you! How have you been?”

Altair was too stunned by the other man's actions to reply.

Seeing this, he cooed at him. “Aww. Don't be shy. It's me, Precious. Remember?” He smiled as he got closer than before in the Assassin's personal space and formed an innocent yet flirty look while tracing light circles below the brunette's neckline. “I missed you,” he emphasized in an almost hushed tone while blinking his long eyelashes. It even crept said Eagle out and made him feel uncomfortable a bit.

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted the conversation. Bright blue orbs averted over to the forgotten duo, seeing Desmond standing there with a raised brow while Ezio stood firmly with his arms crossed with an unpleasant expression.

“Oh. Hello.” The blue-eyed blinked, eyes darting between the two. “Are you two...his brothers?”

Desmond sighed. “Not really.”

“Hmm.” Precious paused, visibly taking the moment to scan the two men. “Well...” A smirk. “You must be because you look similar to one another. And are undoubtedly handsome, too,” he added, already taking a liking to them.

Before Miles could put into good word for Precious to understand, Ezio had already beat him to it. “Sorry, _amico_ , but we are not interested,” he stated as he grasped Desmond by the arm while pulling Altair by the front of his hoodie.

However, just as the trio was on their way, they heard someone yell, “Wait!” Simultaneously, they all stopped and looked back at the blond. Precious dug deep inside of his stylish hand purse and withdrew a white card. He then walk up and handed it over to Altair, who took it with slight hesitation with confusion written on his tanned features.

Precious flashed a flirty grin. “Give me a call if any of you want to hang out sometimes. Later, Alty boo~.” The man then winked before he turned to leave.

Blinking, the Assassin trio watched the blond-haired until he was out of sight then turned to look at each other. Peering over the Syrian's shoulders, Desmond and Ezio gazed down at the card given to him. On it was Precious's name written in French script followed by a nine-digit phone number with a winking smiley face underneath it. Apart from that, Miles could not help but to wonder if that guy...or girl...was someone his ancestor knew from a previous encounter and whether or not he was going to actually call him. It did not matter to him, though. But, as for Auditore, he did not like the looks Precious kept giving Ibn-La'Ahad, so he is going to be more aware than ever. Envy much?

“That...was the most awkward encounter in all of my life,” Desmond slowly commented, receiving a grunt from Ezio while Altair silently agreed.

With no further comment, both ancestors and descendant resumed their walk down the street to the post office. _Very_ awkward, indeed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amico [friend (masc.)]


	19. Hideous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feels are coming in hot. Guess with who, though?

A soft mewl rang out in the open streets.

"Ugh! Shoo! Get away, ya pest!"

Another meow of desperation sounded again, almost like it was begging for attention. Then, the sound of a glass shattering was heard before a small figure darted clumsily down the street in an attempt to get away.

The male citizen shook his head and sighed. "Stupid stray," he muttered, resuming to his own business.

Stopping at a short distance away, the creature looked back in the direction of the man's location with a gloomy expression. It stared, and almost seemed like it was contemplating about the human's words directed at him. He watched a bit longer at the mean man before slowly walking on its way.

Who or what is _he_ , you may ask. A kitten, or that was what he was thought to be. A gray-furred, black-stripped cat with patches of missing fur on various areas of its body. Its face was resembled like an experiment gone wrong. A scar ran across its nose up to its left eye, which was nothing more than a black hole where it was ripped out and crusted with dry blood. One of the cat's hind legs was twisted at an odd angle, seeming broken with half of its tail missing like it had been cleanly cut off with a cleaver.

It was a sad sight. This cat was the type a cat that only a mother could ever love with all of her heart. He wore no collar or any tags, so he basically did not belong to anyone. It was unknown how he came to be as he was now. Whoever was the previous owner or caretaker did not seem to care and possibly tortured the poor feline for some horrible reason then dumped him in the streets. After that, everyone did nothing but ignored the cat due to his disfigured persona like he was the most grotesque creation that ever existed. People were so cruel in this world.

The kitten looked up in curiosity as a new face stooped down to his level. A little girl around the tender age of seven was smiling and giggling happily at him with so much brightness. Said cat's chipped ear twitched as a small mew came, blinking his golden eye up at her in a pleading manner. The child's smile widened as she reached out to gently stroke his head, but was suddenly jerked backwards.

A woman, presumably the girl's mother, took the young girl into her arms and gave the perplexed kitten a disgusted frown. "Ugh! Get away from my child, you disgusting _thing_!" she exclaimed and quickly walked the opposite way down the sidewalk.

Said cat merely watched until the lady was out of sight, not before seeing the little girl sadly waving goodbye at him with poked out lips and mouthing, "Bye, bye, kitty." He then turned and scurried, more likely limped due the poor condition of his back leg, elsewhere. The seldom times when he thought someone was going to actually show him care, it was immediately taken away in a quick flash. Why? If all things were different but created equal, why was he being neglected so rashly like some contagious disease?

The gray and black cat made his way across non-busy street. He was halfway across when a speeding truck honked loudly, nearly scaring the hell out of the animal it swerved at the last minute and almost hitting him. Frightened, the kitten darted to safety behind a trashcan. He shuddered and let out a pitiful mew, shaken by the near death experience. Then again, if he had just stood there and got hit by the massive vehicle, who would help him? If he had just died, would anyone care? Not likely, seeing as the humans simply disregard him and treat him like a flea-infested garbage. Not a single soul in this city showed any sort of sympathy or affection towards him. It is as simple as it goes: if you were cute or pretty, you will be pampered like a spoiled child, but if you had flaws or disfigurements, you will be treated like scum. That was the cold, hard truth. Life for animals are similar yet incredibly different.

The small kitten poked his head out, scanning his surroundings. He took a step out ever so slowly, perking his ears at the person before him. A tall with a dark trench coat leaned against the side of the building in front of him, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette and staring up at the cloudy sky. Said kitten clumsily stumbled forward. He approached the man and looked up at him curiously, eying the object in his mouth. The cat did not know what it was but by the nasty stench it emitted in the air, it could not be something edible to satisfy the hunger in his pained stomach from the lack of food. Animals were naive to things they did not know, so no one could blame them for their inquisitive behavior.

The feline boldly strolled up to the man then proceeded to paw at his pants leg and lowly mewed in a begging manner. The man's brow raised as his gaze was turned downward at the gray-furred, black-stripped cat in surprise. A second later after observing the little creature, his dark brows creased together while his lips curled upward. He then reached up to his cigarette, blew out a stream of smoke then pointed the cigarette over the cat's head and began tapping the end of it with his index finger. Hot ash fell from the tip and landed on the feline's face, mostly in its eye and on its nose. The animal quickly shook his head and used his front paw to wipe the ash off, smearing it across his face.

Said brunette must of thought that would scare it away, only to see it failed and became a little annoyed. "Pesky vermin," he scowled distastefully under his breath.

He then positioned the tip of his boot under the kitten's white stomach then lifted it upward in a swift motion. The one-eyed was sent airborne before landing unceremoniously on his side, almost directly on his injured leg. The man grunted, mumbled something incoherently, and placed his boot against the wall as he resumed to his smoking.

The cat lied there, no sound coming from him. No pain, no pleading, no distress. Nothing. It was like he was deprived of ever feeling pain at all or is immune to the feeling. The abuse was neither critical nor serious, though. He all but pushed himself back to his feet then walked away.

As said feline kept to the sidewalk, a rumble resonating in the air caught his immediate attention to the sky. Dark, ominous clouds were rolling in, an indication of an approaching thunderstorm. A single drop of water hit the kit's nose before more began to descend. You would have expected him to run for shelter since most cats hated water. But he did not run. No. The gray and black kitten simply stared as the rain poured on him like a waterfall, soaking his fur down to his bones. It did not matter. No one would care. If he had gotten sick, he would have to deal with it on his own. And if he did not get better...then he would have accepted his fate and just die of illness. Again...no one would _care_.

The disfigured animal moved onward after a moment. He had no real destination or home to call his own and casually limped to a nearby flight of stairs to an apartment building. With a bit of struggle, the cat crawled under the stairs then attempted to curl himself into a ball. Thunder rumbled as a streak of lighting ripped through the sky and the dark-furred feline huddled in a tighter ball he could suffice for his broken leg provided much difficulty. The stump of what used to be his tail twitched, and it was the occurrence of realization that it was useless. It served no purpose for warmth, so the kit would only have to use the inside of his paw to keep his nose dry. The overall appearance was...depressing.

As the storm continued its wrath, it was not but a while later when the kitten felt a pair of big, warm hands. He became alert but have not the strength to fight and could not for another left out fact that he had been declawed, rendering him defenseless. So, he let the hands to the unknown source remove his being from under the steps. He then was cradled into a pair of strong arms clothed in white and drawn closer to a warm wall. His half-lidded eye blinked upward to meet a pair of amber orbs, illuminating within the darkness of a hood. They showed neither menace nor disgust...but sympathy accompanied by a smile forming on bronze features and stretching across cracked, scarred lips. It was as if the little kitten was looking into the face of some angel, an angel for him.

The human, a man, used his free hand to scratch the spot behind the cat's chipped ear. It was not painful but rather different. It felt _good_. The hooded male's smile widened as the kit closed his one eye and embraced the welcoming feeling. A for the first time for as long as he lived, a vibration occurred deep within his throat and expanded throughout his shivering body. He was purring. Not a growl or snarl...but a purr. It was a change and the oh so heartwarming feeling he so desperately craved, to be scratched, petted, and actually cared for. The gods seemed to have heeded his prayers and received the one chance to experience something that was good rather than agony and suffering.

As the hooded man moved his finger to scratch underneath his chin, the feline mewled and weakly clasped his tiny paws onto the finger like a playful baby. A noticeable quake erupted through the man's body. A chuckle. A new sound to his furry ears, and he mewed again as he directed his gaze up at the stranger. For once, he felt happy _and_ safe.

But things were only brief as it made a drastic turn. The kit mewed, only it was weaker than previously as his once bright eye began to narrow. His heart was increasingly slowing by each intake of breath. It was that time, _his_ time and did not resist or have the urge to fight it. His body was became cold as his life was slipping away from him. Tiny paws lost their grip on the long appendage and curled backwards to his chest. The little kitten felt his head loll to the side against the man's chest before he exhaled on last breath and closed his eye. He had come to an tragic end, his fate of death.

The storm began to slow to a light shower as thunder moved further overhead. The man's features amended slowly to a sorrow under his hood at the now dead kit in his arms. He had never held a dying animal nor showed any emotion towards them, but this moment had actually shown him a different light. A strong feeling welled up in the core of his chest as the corner of his eyes began to prickle. Said male shut his golden hues tightly to cease the oncoming tears from spilling and exhaled deeply. A single tear escaped his closed eye much to the hooded man's displeasure. It was just too sad and depressing to see, and it gripped tightly at his heart like no other had.

Said man gathered him the best he could and lightly shook his head. He opened his eyes and searched around the gloomy area. His gaze landed on an alleyway across the street between a store and another brick building. Swiftly, the robed man set off towards to alleyway, cautiously making his way across street and skillfully dodging oncoming vehicles with animal safely tucked close to him. He slowed to a stop upon the alley and scanned the area. Fortunately, it was empty but kept a close eye on anything that could easily sneak up on him.

The tall man's eyes landed on a cardboard box and made his way to it. He then crouched and turned over the box to inspect it, finding nothing besides it being wet from the rain shower. Removing the cat, he gently placed the kit on the ground next to the aluminum trashcan. He readjusted the animal's limbs then placed the box over it as a kind of casket. Then, he stood back to his full height and stared down at the box with a slightly creased brow. Both of his hands clenched into fists then unclenched. So many thoughts ran through his mind, but pushed them to the back of his mind. Another hurtful leap occurred in his chest, and he sighed to try to ignore it.

"Altair."

Altair quickly turned his head with his mouth ajar to the source, coming face to face with Desmond in one of his all-weather coat.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his face contorted with a bit of worry and concern for the Assassin. "Why are you out here in the middle of a storm?"

He would tell him the real reason he was out here, but thought against the matter and shook his head. "No reason."

Miles seemed unconvinced. "You sure?"

Ibn-La'Ahad all but nodded.

"Well..." the brunette exhaled. "C'mon. Let's head back to where it's warm. Ezio is getting rather whiny and impatient..." Desmond added a sigh and rolled his dark eyes. "...as always."

The Eagle Assassin silently made a grunt and followed his descendent obediently, not before casting one last glance to the resting place of the kitten he once held and had died in his arms. His gaze traveled up to the light gray sky, letting a small, unnoticeable smile adorn his feature as his amber hues softened for a brief moment.

_Rest in peace, little kit._


	20. Hell Hath No Haunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's throw in some historical figure and create some holiday fun.

A sigh resounded. "Tell me why are we going back again."

"Why look so sad, _amico_? You should be excited."

"Hardly," Desmond grunted, rolling his eyes.

Desmond was lucky to have the day off today since it was, after all, a holiday. But he kind of wished he was at work just to do something besides this. Previously, he had been awakened, or pounced on, this morning by the hyperactive Ezio, who was so giddy that he thought the _assassino_ was on a sugar rush. Thankfully that was not the case. And no matter how many times the young American tried to go back to sleep, Auditore would do his usual routine of whining and persisted on jumping on him. It annoyed Miles, so he had no choice but to get up. When he finally questioned the ancestor of his behavior, Ezio all but grinned like a Cheshire and pointed at the calendar. Lo and behold, it was the 31st of October, which means...

"It's Halloween, Desmond! Where's your inner spirit?"

"Died out a long time ago," he simply answered, eyes concentrated on the road ahead of him. "Besides, Halloween is for kids to enjoy, not middle-aged adults...or Assassins."

Ezio blinked. "I am not middle-age."

Miles facepalmed as he kept the other hand on the steering wheel. "You're twenty-five and currently _too old_ for Trick-or-Treating. The same goes for me and Al."

Altair, who was silently listening and gazing at the surroundings from the car window, looked to his descendant. "I never wanted to participate the last time."

A sigh. "Me neither. But we had to go thanks to Ezio's _constant_ begging." His brows creased as he gave the Italian a look through the rear-view mirror. "And _if_ he hadn't of been jumping on me today, we'd still be at home resting on my day off."

Auditore da Firenze pouted, sat back in his seat with both arms crossed and stuck his tongue out childishly. Altair resumed what he was doing previously in silence. Desmond all but sighed and reached down to turn the radio on, hoping to end the entire discussion. Both of his ancestors jumped at sudden music blasting and looked around frantically.

"Sorry, guys!" Desmond yelled over the loud guitar solo screeching as he scrambled to turn the volume down. "My bad."

After everything settled down to a minimum as Ezio removed his hands from his ears and Altair glared in half anger, half confusion. "What was that loud contraption?" he asked, eyes lingering on the playing machinery.

" _Si_ , it sounded horrible," chimed the Italian while he attempted to clear the ringing from his ears with his index fingers.

"Some Rock song, I guess. I don't know." The brunette sighed when he finally decided on an appropriate station while something incoherent.

"Rock...song?" Altair slowly trailed in a disbelieving sense, looking at his driving descendant. "It is an actual song about rocks?"

Desmond made a sputtering sound with his lips, earning a raised brow in question to what was humorous. He pushed the oncoming laugh back down and replied, "No. It's the genre of the song." When he saw the ancestor's expression not changing, he waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing. Never mind."

The gibbering ended between them as the radio spokesman did his rambling with some indescribable music blasting in the background.

" _...here on l04.7 KISS FM_."

Again, Ibn-La'Ahad had no idea what that meant, but decided to not ask about. The modern world had so many strange things he just did not quite understand. He merely distracted himself by watching the random pedestrians on the sidewalk. By some coincidence, he swore he spotted that blond-haired stalker sitting outside at an outdoorsy restaurant with couple of others who probably were his friends. Precious must have had super sensors for when he happened to look up as their car drove by, he gleefully waved at the hazel-eyed Assassin and blew a winking-eyed kiss at him. Altair felt himself sink further into his car seat and threw his jacket hood over his head, hoping shield himself from the open world. Why, oh, _why_ did it had to be him?

Ezio, who was used to noticing everything, had not even noticed for he was dozing off quietly with his head resting against the top part of the backseat. Desmond took a glance in the rear-view and slightly shook his head. He was supposed to be excite like he was before, so why was he suddenly tired? He was weird that way, but it was fine.

The voice of the spokesman boomed on the radio with the unfitting, off-beat music, ending his speech with yet again, " _...104.7 KISS FM_."

The next song began with a calm, melodic piano playing. Ezio instantly shot awake with a gasp at the recognition of the song. A wide, overly gleeful grin stretched on his face, his inner female jumping in pure joy. To the unsuspecting driver and passenger, they had absolutely no idea what they were in for.

" _Making my way downtown, walking fast, Faces pass and I'm home bound_."

Desmond and Altair was taken aback by the Auditore singing along with the songstress. Ezio hummed the piano's tune then started up again.

" _Staring blankly ahead, just making my way, Making my way through the crowd._ "

Miles groaned with worried eyes like the entire day just got worse. Way worse. Altair placed an elbow near the window then leaned his head against his fist, already planning on how to escape the car so he would not have to bear the dying breed of an amateur singer in the back of the car. If anything, jumping out of the window would be nice. The _assassino_ wedged his head in between the front then vigorously shook his head back and forth and stopped on Altair.

" _And I need you_ "

He repeated his head-shaking then stopped to Desmond.

" _And I miss you_ "

He shook his head one last time before stopping at the ceiling.

" _And now I wonder..._ "

With a little girly smile, he put a finger to his temple in mock wonder.

" _If I could fall, into the sky. Do you think time, would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles_ " Ezio leaned forward to Desmond and whispered sultrily, "If I could just see you..."

Miles shivered from the Italian's hot breath on his ear, a shiver passing down his body to his groin as his eyes went into a daze for a split second.

"... _tonight._ "

Miles was able to regain himself and jerked the steering wheel to prevent the car from crashing into a pole. Altair held onto the door in a vice grip and was shaking in fear like cat dipped in ice water. Ezio fell back into his seat and hummed the instrumental solo of the song, acting like nothing happened.

" _It's always times like these when I think of you, And I wonder if you ever think of me, 'Cause every thing's so wrong and I don't belong, Living in your precious memory._ "

Again, Ezio slowly wedged his head between the front like a little creeper then shook his head from side to side and stopped at a seething Syrian.

" _'Cause I'll need you,_ "

Second repeat and landed on a disgruntled American.

" _And I miss you,_ "

Last repeat then grasped onto the headrest of the front seats.

" _And now I won..._ " Head tilt to the left." _...der..._ " Head tilt to the right.

" _If I could fall, into the sky, Do you think time, would pass me by? 'Cause you know I'd walk a thousand miles..._ " Auditore exaggerated a marching motion with his arms like he was trudging up a mountain then leaned forward to Altair's seat, grasped the man by the chin to turn his head towards him, and lowered his voice. " _If I could just see you..._ "

The Assassin felt the steamy breath as the Italian's lips brushed against his own, teasingly arousing him as they gazed deeply into each other's golden orbs. The urge to kiss those tantalizing lips were only an inch away. He should not, but the temptation...

A small smile spread on Ezio's lips. " _...tonight._ "

With that, the brunette collapsed back into his seat as he went back to humming with the song. Altair cursed at himself and drew his hood more over his head as much as possible, withdrawing himself back into his silent thoughts in slight frustration.

Desmond groaned grimly. _This is gonna be great...!_

* * *

"Hi and welcome! Browse to your heart's content!" said the blonde door host, dressed in an slightly revealing angel costume in which Ezio could not help but to stare at.

Smirking his famous smirk, Ezio decided to put his charm on and approached the woman. " _Buongiorno_ , _bella_." He took both of her hands into his. "What a beautiful angel you are."

Said woman blushed and covered her mouth with her hand in a fail attempt to suppress a giggle.

Desmond all but sighed while Altair looked on unimpressed by the scene. The Auditore slipped a hand around her tiny waist whilst the other grasping her hand and speaking his native tongue, making her cheeks redder than previous. The Syrian's golden orbs hinted with slight jealousy, lip twitching. He never felt so envious to something such as this which happens to be unacceptable. It must stop this instant.

Before Miles could open his mouth, Altair reacted quickly. Taking long strides, he reached out to Ezio's collar and yanked him back harshly, hearing the womanizer let out a choking sound. Glaring, he whirled around to retaliate at the elder ancestor, but was immediately silenced by pair of warm lips colliding with his in a hard kiss. A tongue slipped inside his mouth without permission and massaged his own, causing said Auditore to let out a spine-tingling moan. Desmond blinked, speechless at his ancestor's actions. He did not know what to think, say, and/or do. The angel-cosplaying girl stared at the two in bewilderment while her devil-cosplaying friend at the cash register had her mouth dropped wide in utter disbelief.

As quickly as it started, Altair ended the kiss then turned on his heels without a second glance to a random section of the store. Ezio watched the Eagle Assassin, his mind still a bit hazy from the short yet heated kiss. His hand subconsciously touch his scarred lips, feeling a sudden wave ripple in the southern area between his thighs. A part of him wished that he could resume where Ibn-La'Ahad had left, however, he had to restrain himself because of the well-known fact that it may lead on to even more things. He was unsure why the Assassin acted the way he did, but he guessed it might have been out of anger jealousy. Altair being jealous because his, Ezio's, flirting with that girl? Why, that just seems ludicrous!

The Italian reverted back to reality and glanced over to the young woman. When his gaze met with hers, she blushed a shade darker than red and quickly scurried away, timidly muttering an apology under her breath as she went to occupy herself with work. He then turned his attention to the cashier girl, who slowly went back to attending to her customer while occasionally looking over at him with cautious eyes.

He closed his brownish amber eyes and deeply sighed. _Now they know..._

Ezio was then snapped out of his thoughts when a hand grabbed onto his forearm, dragging him inside. Once he was near the back-end of the store and away from the awkward stares, he gave his undivided attention to his descendant.

"Hey, man, you alright?" Desmond asked, raising a brow.

Again, the _assassino_ sighed. " _Si_. I am fine."

"Then what the hell was that all about?" he inquired, gesturing with his hand then placing them on his hip.

The Auditore was about to answered when he was interrupted.

"Wait, wait. On second thought, It's best that you don't tell and explain later."

He blinked, shutting his mouth like an obedient dog.

Miles exhaled and cast a somewhat exhausted look. "Let's just finish shopping and get this over with. Now, what other costume or character-?"

"Actually, Desmond," Ezio suddenly interrupted. "I change my mind. I do not want a costume."

He raised a brow. "Why not?"

Said ancestor gave a small shrug. "I am not feeling the need to purchase one."

"Because...?"

A sheepish smile appeared. "I kind of rather have my...you know...robes this time." Ezio was hunching back like a docile turtle as he said this, expecting and preparing for an out burst from the American.

Silence impregnated the atmosphere as Desmond slowly blinked. Then, he bluntly stated, "So...because of what happened a few minutes ago, you suddenly changed your mind from wanting a costume to wearing your Assassin robes, making me waste gas coming here."

Brownish-hazel orbs darted around hesitantly before returning to the bartender's blank ones and weakly nodded, placing the jacket hood over his head and cowering more in hopes of disappearing. He could only wait and prepare for the worst.

Instead, he heard Desmond sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine."

Slowly, Auditore _da Firenze_ peeked through the small hole of his hood. "You...are not mad?"

A sniff. "A little pissed, actually." He paused then narrowed his eyes menacingly at the brunette. "But I will _try_ not to give in the urge to choke you here in public."

Ezio quickly regained his composure and placed his fist over his heart. " _Mi scuso_ , and I swear to never let this happen again. Assassin's honor," he promised, ending it with a bow of the head.

All he received was a confused look from his descendent. "You know, I sometimes wonder about you."

The conversation suddenly turned as the Auditore flashed that trademark smirk. "I hope of good things as I have of you also, _bello_."

"Not like that, idiot!" Miles retaliated, feeling a slight burn on his cheek. He knew what he was implying and fought off the incoming thoughts as he amended the subject. "Where is Altair?"

Ezio shrugged, earning a sigh from the other male. "How should I know? He kissed me then left."

At that moment, a shadow emerged from behind said Italian. Desmond's wide eyes caught sight of the looming form. The ancestor took an immediate note of the expression then felt a hand firmly grasp his shoulder. A loud shriek erupted from his throat as he flailed his arms and hid behind the younger man, hands clenching the sides of white jacket tightly.

"Altair...is that really you?" Desmond questioned in bewilderment.

"What? Too much?"

Altair finally stepped out into the light outside the stall next to where they stood. Intimidatingly, the white skull mask on his face made him appear menacingly angry yet mysterious. Only a dark purple, scarf-like material hung around his neck, leaving the rest of his masculine torso exposed to peering eyes and nothing left to the imagination. Dark-colored wraps covered his hands in a fingerless glove fashion with his Assassin bracer occupying his left forearm. From the waist down, a wide belt accompanied by a tattered, knee-length fabric shielding the front with the back being longer, almost touching the floor. Black, skintight pants trailed downward into the brown Assassin boots. To say the least, he looked more likely like someone's intimate nightmare.

"That was not funny!" Ezio whined, glaring at the Syrian over Desmond's shoulder.

A hidden smirk engulfed Altair's lips as he chuckled lowly. He enjoyed seeing the Italian become upset at him when he does something that will leave him shaking. His amber orbs averted to the gawking American. "See anything you want?" he asked teasingly, his voice giving a low, husky tone deaf to the silent space they were standing in. "Or...desire?"

 _Oh, you have no idea._ Desmond broke out of his dazed state and cleared his throat. "Wow. Didn't really recognize you there, man." His eyes did a quick scan. "Wicked."

Ibn-La'Ahad tilted his head thoughtfully for a split second like a bird would do before emitting a low hum, understanding by what he meant.

Ezio walked out from behind Desmond, but still kept his glare. "You're always picking something scary."

It was the Syrian Eagle's turn to glare. "You are always picking something ridiculously atrocious as you are. Like that maid outfit you wore, I presume?"

"It was only a dare!" Auditore da Firenze wailed.

A hand was clasped harshly over the younger ancestor's mouth as Miles shushed him. "Lower your voice. You're already drawing attention to us." He used his head to gesture at the customers around the store. Indeed, he people within the vicinity were casting curious stares at the trio, making the air around them a bit uncomfortable.

Once his hand was removed, Ezio gave an apologetic look. " _Scusi._ "

"So," Desmond began, "are we done looking?"

Altair grunted in his throat, examining himself in the mirror on the stall door in fascination and admiration, but also doubtfulness. He liked the new attire overall; however, the slight downfall that caused him to have second thoughts was the idea of going out in public shirtless. With it being Fall and all, the weather climate is highly unpredictable and would more likely risk him into getting ill, which he could not afford to happen. Temperatures could drop into the lower thirties with a possible chance of precipitation, but there was no telling since no one could actually predict the weather. He could always bring the jacket Desmond gave him just to be on the safe zone.

A moment passed before his eyes caught the sight of the young woman Ezio was flirting with. He studied her in the mirror as she was gawking at his muscled physique like he was a marble-sculpted god from Heaven. Altair kept quiet and allowed her have a longer look. The 'angel's' eyes were like half-lidded with her mouth partially open as her cheeks were a little flushed. His golden orbs quickly averted to the Italian, who did not seem to notice at all then turned back sharply to the girl. That was when she jumped as soon as he done so like she was caught stealing a valuable item. She grew instantly stiff with her posture straightening, her bright orbs widening as her face turned a deeper shade of red in a hilarious manner. Said Syrian held her gaze with his stern one for a while before giving her a wink, signaling that he knew she liked what she was seeing. In embarrassment of her actions, the girl quickly looked away and tried to busy herself by rearranging the merchandise on the shelves behind her, which made him chuckle to himself. It amused him of how not only does the Auditore have a special affect on women, but also having his own secretive affect as well, and he was taking a small liking to it.

The Assassin turned with a small, invisible smirk forming on scarred lips as his eyes glinted within the mask. Adding a slight gravel tune to his deep voice that could make a closet-freak aroused, he confirmed, " _Na'am_."

With that said, Desmond clasped his hands with smile. "Alright. Let's get going, then...Death."

The smirk within the frightening mask widened further as an indescribable glint fleeted in the golden orbs at the sound of the name. Tonight shall be interesting.

* * *

Hours later, nightfall had approached. The full moon shone brightly as the stars winked from above. Temperatures were in the cool mid-forties, giving a nice, refreshing feeling to the atmosphere.

A group of kids darted down the sidewalk as they laughed and giggled excitedly with their candy buckets dangling on their arms. Turning a street corner, they arrived at the entrance of a cemetery and stopped to take a break. Anxiously, they each dug into their buckets and withdrew some of the treats they received.

"Sweet! I got a Tootsie Pop and Jolly Ranchers!" a little boy dressed as Iron Man exclaimed.

"I got some Skittles! My favorite! Nyaa~!" the little cat-girl mewed happily.

The boy dressed as a poorly-made ghost withdrew his share contently. "Yeah...and I got a rock."

The girl giggled at her friend and cast a bright, wide smile. "Don't worry. I'll share some of mine with you."

He then laughed weakly and scratched his head. "Thanks."

Resuming their conversation, the children were unaware of a presence lurking behind them. An ample shadow materialized over them, ceasing their chattering amongst one another. With wide, fear-glazed eyes, the children slowly turned around to peer at the unknown stranger. Who or what could it be?

Then, a masculine figure with a frightening bone mask emerged, almost floated, into view. The children became petrified immediately with little bodies shaking visibly. The tall male was silent, bright gold eyes gleaming into their horror-stricken ones. He then bent down slowly to their level, transfixing his gaze concentrated on them without so much of blinking and stopped in front of the little girl. He heard her breath hitch in her throat and took note of the fear glazed in her doe-like eyes as small whimpers resounded in the quiet air. Both boys on either side of her were in a similar state, anticipating what the stranger was going to do next.

The man finally spoke, whispering in a deep tone, "Boo."

That triggered an ear-splitting scream from the cat-girl followed by two more. All three youngsters dashed off as fast as their little feet could down the lamp-lit street, scared out of their wits and nearly dropping their bags of candy in the process.

The masked male stood up to his full height, watching as the children rounded a corner of another block and chuckled. _Children..._ The brunette tilted his head. This costume had more effect than the previous he who wore last time. Though, being bare-chested out in public was about the only problem he found disliking, but whatever. This one, he would _so_ keep.

"That was quite mean, you know," came the accented voice of Ezio, who stood with his a hand on his hip with a disapproving glare etched on his face. "Quite frankly, that costume suits you well, Altair, and matches your personality _perfettamente_."

A scoff came. "I thought this is what you do on 'Hollow-ween'," Ibn-La'Ahad sarcastically stated more than questioned, his body half turned in the iron gates of the cemetery with his muscled arms now folded across his sculpted chest.

Auditore swallowed as his eyes hungrily ogled at the muscles flexing within each movement of the Syrian in the nearly visible light source. He subconsciously swallowed and hummed as a smirk traveled across his scarred lips. Just when the Italian was going to give a comment to Altair, or formally 'Death', a sudden jab to his sides brought him out of the trance, making him squeak a curse like he had just been electrocuted. Ezio whipped around with both hidden blades poised at the perpetrator, coming face to face with none other than Desmond.

"O-Oh my G-God..." Miles laughed, a Cheshire grin overtaking his face as he threw his head back. "Y-your face...Oh, m-man...!"

" _Stronzo_..." pouted the Auditore, sending a death glare at the laughing bartender then directed it at the chuckling Syrian.

After a good minute or so, Desmond finally stopped. "Aww, c'mon, Ezio. Just having a little fun."

A disbelieving grunt was the given response. "Anyway," he continued, deciding to change the subject. "What are we planning for tonight?"

"Well..." Miles sighed loudly, shoving his hands coat pockets. "...since you practically _begged_ to go out for another Halloween night, I looked up some locations that might seem interesting, and decided for all of us to come here." He then gestured with his head for the Assassins to follow him, which they obliged.

Looking around at the picked destination. they were at some graveyard to an old church made of brick, stone, and wooden materials. The building itself is a rectangular structure with a three-sided projecting rear apse on the east end. It has two-foot–thick field-stone walls giving way to clapboard above the roof-line, within the fields of the Flemish-style gambrel roof, with its lower segments flaring outward like a bell. On the west end of the roof is an octagonal wooden open belfry. Within it is the original bell with an engraved verse from the bible and the initials of "VF" on the wrought iron weathervane atop the belfry.

Behind the church, and sloping up a gentle acclivity, was its capacious burial ground of at least two to five acres, more or less. Long rows of old gravestones stood side by side of similar names, but various dates as well as virtues inscribed in Dutch, some of which featured whimsical representations of angels, or perhaps of departed souls typically appearing as winged heads near the top of each marker. Many of the stones were so timeworn that they bear cracks, stains, flaking, and sometimes even show signs of extensive repair. Such weathering, however, often results in subtle colors, shapes and textures that give these markers a profound character that could only be acquired over time. Additionally, while some of the markers still retain crisp text, others composed of a softer material have worn down until their text has become barely discernible, giving the stones a ghostly, ethereal quality.

A murder of crows sat perched in the nearby trees, one out of the bunch cawing in the deathly silence. The atmosphere had a sense of dread like something malevolent was watching them intently within the shadows. It would make anybody's skin crawl and become a bit paranoid to the surrounding darkness. It was doing just that to poor Desmond, but he did his best to ignore it. Altair scanned around in mild wonder as he had never seen such a wide burial ground as big as this one while Ezio seemed a little skittish like he was expecting a zombie to emerge out of the ground at any moment. He subconsciously shivered. He could still remembered the first time experience when the three of them went out for Halloween and those creepy, Walking Dead walkers made themselves known, nearly followed them home. It was horrible.

They finally stopped at some distance away from the church building, standing in between a couple of trees. Ezio was the first to break the silence.

"Where are we?" he asked, eying his descendant with a hand on his hip.

Desmond gestured to the area around them. "This is the Old Dutch Burial Ground, and that-" He pointed at the building they recently passed. "-is the Old Dutch Church. People said that this was where one of the most haunted legends took place."

"Haunted legends?" Altair spoke in mild interest, eyebrow raised behind the skull-like mask at the American.

He nodded. "Yeah. Said it supposedly was the burial place of a...Hessian soldier who had died by decapitation during a war." His hands went inside his coat pockets. "I've read that his spirit haunts these grounds, even to this day. People even celebrate him on every Halloween and made him as the local school's mascot."

"Hmm. Must be famous, _si_?"

"That, and also infamous."

Ibn-La'Ahad crossed his arms over his bare chest. "You said something about a war. When was that?" Usually, the Syrain would keep to himself, but the information Desmond was telling seemed to peak his interest and curiosity further.

Miles shrugged and shook his head. "I don't exactly know _when_ , but it took place during the Revolutionary War."

"Revolutionary War," Auditore repeated quietly, testing the words as he looked around the darkness like he was expecting something to happen.

"Yeah, but it was _during_ the Revolutionary War. The actual battle where the soldier had died didn't have a name, for as far I know. And since the closest church was here, they had no choice but to bury him here. Now, the guy comes out at night in search of his head."

"What?" the eldest Assassin quipped, frowning.

"Why?" the Italian questioned, his gaze focused on said bartender.

Desmond sighed out loud exasperatedly. "I just told you. He took a cannonball to the head and died by decapitation, man. Since then, he comes from his grave in search of his lost head and will kill anyone who gets in his way." Again, he sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "There are many different versions to the story, anyway. Takes took long to tell the entire thing."

"Your history seems quite..." Altair started, pausing as he searched for the correct word to describe everything that was being said.

"...spooky," Ezio ended, fingers ever-so-slightly twitching as a chill waved through his body. Seriously, why was he so on edge?

A snort. "What don't you think is spooky?"

Said Italian glared at the older man. "Not you."

 _Oh, God. Not now._ Before the bickering could escalate any higher, Desmond got in between the two. "Guys, seriously," the brunette said with a raised voice, instantly shutting the duo up. "Like I said, it's just a _legend_ , a _myth_. Not. Real."

Both Eagle Assassins all but stared at their descendant with nothing more to say.

The wind suddenly picked up, trees rustling to and fro with the leaves scuttling along the ground in a flurry. The murder of crows perched in the overhanging branches simultaneously began cawing loudly in alert as their dark forms took to the skies. A neigh then caught their undivided attention. Glancing over to the source, all three gazes were met with a ghostly silhouette outlined in the dark surroundings. A horse, pale as the gleaming moon with abnormal eyes of ruby red and what previously used to be a normal horse head was instead a horse skull. Aside from the sight of the undead beast, the tall figure settled atop was what made all of their jaws drop and sense of fear heightened. A man clad in a dark, seemingly black, military uniform from the neck down with boots to match the attire. However, from the neck and up, nothing was there. The being was indeed headless.

 _Holy shit..._ Desmond's mouth was gaping incredibly wide in utter disbelief and shock, wondering if what he was seeing was actuality or fake. He would have guessed that this was just some guy playing some stupid prank on the people out and about. Many thoughts zipped through his mind as he struggled to believe or not to believe what was before them. But only one command kept repeating itself like a chant as to warn him of an upcoming event, a serious one at that. _Look away. Look away, Des... Just look away. Look away, now._

Altair continued to stare at the figure on horseback, muscles tensing as the white stallion huffed and snorted white clouds in the air with slight excitement. In all of his life, he had never seen something as crazy or imaginable such as this. He had heard a wide range of old stories when he was a mere child, but never had truly been a big believer of old folklore. Sure, some did sound interesting, he did not actually thought they were real. Elderly people tend to exaggerate them to make the children believe them or to put some kind of fear into them as a warning of their mischievous behavior. And by how the way Desmond told the story of this unearthly spirit before his very own eyes, he was now beginning to have second thoughts.

Ezio could feel his heart pounding against his chest through his robes as his golden brown eyes were locked on the horseman, who was still 'gazing' back at them silently. His breathing began quavering while his throat became desert dry. He felt his body undergo a debate of flight-or-fight mode as his knees trembled weakly under him. He wanted to run, but could not pull away from the unbreakable trance on the supernatural being, trapped like mouse being cornered by a menacing cat that would soon end his life. The Auditore opened his mouth, but the words were stuck in his esophagus.

It was, as the legend had told, the Headless Horseman in the very flesh.

After more silence impregnated the atmosphere with the absence of the cawing crows and the trees rustling more vigorously, the horseman suddenly reached back to the side of the steed's saddle and withdrew a large, round object. The Assassin trio almost simultaneously tilted their heads in unison, eyes flitting to the said item. A bucket.

Desmond blinked curiously. _W-What is...? Is he gonna...?_

In a split second, the spiritual being swung the bucket at the three, seeing a dark, thick substance soar through the air like a tsunami wave. Shouts came from the Assassins when the liquid splattered them, covering them from head to toe while frantically wiping their eyes.

Ezio groaned irritably, repeatedly blinking his eyes and exclaimed, " _Dannazione!_ What is this?"

Altair scrubbed at his eyes after taking off his mask. Blinking a few times, he grimly glared down at the liquid substance, staring in a perplexed manner. "...Blood."

"B-Blood?!" Desmond stuttered in shock, eyes expanding to wide saucers. No wonder it tasted so disgustingly metallic, stale even. Where exactly the blood came from, he could only imagine. He did not care, not even in the slightest. But just the thought of what type it could be nearly made him gag.

Unexpectedly, the headless spirit withdrew a weapon, a cutlass sword, from his waist as a dark voice slowly droned out in a growl-like whisper, " _Desssmond._ "

Miles's entire body turned to stone at the call of his name with sweat brimming on his forehead. If memory served him correctly, the Horseman never spoke unless it was the name of his victim of choice, foreshadowing them of their impending doom.

And the brunette happens to be the victim.

The spectral horse reared up onto its hind legs and whinnied loudly, sounding like an eerie echo trailing behind it as said creature pawed the air. Then, with a brief kick to the sides, the horse charged at full speed. Desmond tried to urge his feet to move but was glued to his spot. His heart was pounding hard against his chest, body trembling as little puffs of cloud were exhaled from his dry lips. The horseman raised his ax in the air, preparing to initiate a devastating blow that will soon end his fate: death by decapitation. Miles sometimes wonder why do things happen to him, whether good, bad, or weird. It had to be more than simple bad luck or karma. The though of his own excruciating death could not be anymore traumatizing, especially by some malevolent fiend. Should he be laughing his ass off or crying hysterically like it was his last chance to live? The horse's galloping became louder as the creature with its rider leaning slightly over the side with his ax ready. He shut his eyes tightly, subconsciously balling his fists. _Well...at least it'll be quick and painless, I guess..._

Just before the unexplainable could happen, Desmond was suddenly tackled to the ground forcibly, feeling the wind being knocked out of him and the cool swish of the ax missing his head by a hair. A _really_ close call. He grunted upon landing on the ground roughly, strong arms enclosed around his torso. He then averted his gaze to his savior. Dark orbs were greeted with amber.

"Altair," Miles breathed in relief, taking great appreciation for the Assassin's timing. "T-Thanks for save."

Altair grunted positively before rolling off to the side and standing up. He then stretched out a hand to Desmond, who accepted the offer before being yanked up to his feet. All the while, Ezio was taking slow steps backwards to where the two were without as so much of taking his eyes off of the horseman until he stood within the proximity of both ancestor and descendant. The Headless Horseman turned his steed around as said horse nickered, grunted, and bit at the steel reins in its mouth while bucking slightly. Quietly, the headless rider seethed angrily, expertly twirling his sword and readying for another charge.

Ezio loudly swallowed a lump in his throat. "W-We should r-run."

The horse's whine echoed eerily when the rider kicked at its side to push him into a run, fully charging right for them.

"Run!"

All three dashed off down a random road with the malevolent horseman on their tail. Altair and Ezio were leading while Desmond was following as best as he could, full-out sprinting for all of their worth. Clacking of horse hooves soon grew louder and closer. Miles's heartbeat picked up a notch as he tried to force his legs to move faster, almost tripping over his own feet. Sweat poured down his face as his ear thrummed louder and louder. The beheaded horseman lifted his sword high to deliver the killing blow...

Ezio happened to glance back and did a quick double-take. Panic shot through him and hastily grabbed sleeve of Desmond's forearm then pulled him to side, pushing his down flat to the ground. The rider missed yet again. The horse grunted and snorted as it slowed to a trot while its master tightened his grip on weapon. He was becoming beyond pissed.

Altair jogged over to their side and helped them both to their feet.

Ezio was the first to speak. "What do we do?"

"We cannot keep running, not like this," added the Syrian.

Miles thought hard for a moment then breathed out, "Our only chance is the bridge...approximately northwest from the churchyard." He paused. "It can't cross over freshwater."

The other two nodded in understanding, knowing what they must do.

"Let's go."

They took off into another run, and the headless rider gave chase. For what seemed like an eternity, the Assassins ducked, rolled, and dodged in whichever way to avoid getting killed as they did their best to protect one another. With the spiritual being coming after Desmond, it made the task a little harder and much more difficult than expected. That was not to say he was better off surrendering willingly and let himself succumb to his tragic fate. It was a very sadistic thought, a cold one, at that. He could not, cannot, and shall not give up.

"There!"

Forcing their legs pass their limits, the ancestors and descendant headed for the wooden bridge coming into view. The sense of freedom was right in their grasp. They just needed to cross that bridge, and it was home sweet home. The horseman prepared his cutlass, urged his steed to gallop faster, and swung...

 _Swish!_ Steel met with air and missed its intended target.

The cry of the ghostly steed was heard as the trio set foot on the bridge and continued across without stopping. The boys skidded to a complete halt and looked back. The Horseman 'stared' at them while his horse reared back like he was sending them a warning that the next encounter will probably be their last. With that, the spectural duo rode off back to the cemetery grounds, returning to their home for another peaceful slumber.

Desmond, Ezio, and Altair gazed at each other then back to where the horseman was last seen. No words were needed for them to see how they were so glad to have made it out in one piece. Auditore, Ibn-La'Ahad, and Miles all but dropped to the solid ground onto their backs exhaustedly as the sun slowly rose over the horizon in beautiful arrays of orange, blue, and violet. It was an utter relief that tonight's event came to an end, thanks to the approaching dawn. Seriously and surely in his words of decision, Ezio did not plan to celebrate another Halloween night like this again. Besides that, he had other exceptional holidays to celebrate. But how ever he plans to do so, Altair vowed to not agree or get engaged with anything the Italian suggests and would happily be content in agreeing to Desmond's instead. Tonight gave them quite the fright, and Sleepy Hollow, home to the Headless Horseman, will forever be in their historical memories of ultimate scarey experiences.

Altair calmly opened his eyes then took a moment of silence. "Desmond. No more Hollow-ween," he spoke somewhat sternly.

The brunette sighed and nodded. "Agreed."

"Des?" Ezio called.

"What, Ez?"

With a fist raised to the bluish purple sky, he uttered three words that will possibly put an incredible puncture on their night's adventure: "...Praise the sun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, thank you lovelies for the kudos!
> 
> *Arabic [Meaning]*  
> Na'am [yes]
> 
> *Italian [Meaning]*  
> Amico [friend (masc.)]  
> Bella/Bello [beautiful (fem.)/handsome (masc.)]  
> Buonasera [good evening]  
> Dannazione [damn]  
> Mi scuso [my apologies]  
> Perfettamente [perfectly]  
> Scusi [sorry]  
> Si [yes]  
> Stronzo [asshole]


End file.
